The Little Lady and the Housekeeper
by dreamfandomist
Summary: Little Lady Sybil strikes a friendship with Mrs Hughes, who revels in the loveliness of comforting a little child. Buried feelings between Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes threaten to rise to the surface due to the tenderness induced in them by the spirited young girl.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**Downton Abbey - 1901**

Elsie Hughes was doing her early morning rounds of the guest rooms. She supervised the maids who were getting them ready. A very large house party had just concluded. Some of the guests left late at night but most of them left in the morning, either to catch their respective trains or speeding up in their cars to attend to their important matters, leaving the guest bedrooms under the command of the formidable Housekeeper who delayed not a moment in re-arranging the rooms back to their initial impeccable standards. It was quite early in the morning and many maids were not very happy about having to do such hard work early in the morning but they knew the "Scottish Dragon" would get at them if they slacked and hardly dared to complain. But not everyone.

"I daresay she thinks us slave!" Jane, a rather new housemaid began protesting.

"That's rather harsh Jane," Anna replied softly.

"No it is not! To think of us being dragged out in here, this early in the morning, to arrange guest bedrooms that could wait at least till midday. _That_ is harsh," Jane retorted.

"She is just doing her job Jane. She is not a bad person. She's actually very kind if you get to know her," Anna felt like defending the frightening yet kind Housekeeper, "She lets us go to fairs and all when Mr Carson would keep the footmen in to polish the silver."

"Going to a fair is our right! Who is she to deprive us of that? If she did she'll get a nice earful from me till she's shaken to her roots!" Jane retorted giving a pillow a very harsh puff.

Unknown to them Mrs Hughes was listening to the entire conversation from behind the closed door and was fuming as the young housemaid's airs increased and with the last comment she blew up. Opening the door in front of her in one swift movement, she stepped into the room. Her chatelaine swaying very fast and giving the keys attached to it a violent jangle. An equally frightening expression on her face.

"This not going to be good," Anna thought as she clutched the bed spread not able to think what to do as Jane stood dumbfounded with the pillow clasped to her chest, her mouth slightly open in surprise.

"M..Mrs H…H...Hughes," Jane stammered not quite able to think what she should say and feverishly wondering up to what extent the Housekeeper had heard their conversation.

"I am waiting for that earful of yours!" Mrs Hughes stormed as she watched tears gather in the corners of the housemaid's eyes. Anna watched on feeling like an intruding spectator.

"Since you currently are not in the state of replying at all. Let me remind you something. There are certain ways this house is run. And those ways are to ensure nothing but perfection. Let me remind that it is you job to do what you are told. And this type of conversation is very unseemly for a member of staff of this household. And if by any chance you are thinking of moving higher up in life, this approach, I assure you, will never get there. And implied from your tone is that this type of life is not for you. If you wish to work under this roof for sometime longer, I suggest you prepare yourself to meet the effort that these standards demand," Mrs Hughes finished in a very loud voice that the housemaid was now completely in tears. Mrs Hughes finished with the famous "Hughes glare" and walked out of the room as swiftly as she entered, her chatelaine giving a final violent jangle.

Anna let go of the bed spread and walked to Jane who was crying by this point and put her arms around her and rubbed her back in small equal strokes.

"Well Jane, you kind of asked for it really," she whispered softly.

X x x x

Mrs Hughes was in the linen cupboard absolutely furious. How dare that insolent girl make such remarks and even go to the extent of questioning her authority! She retreated to the linen cupboard because she feared that when in her temper she might lash out those who didn't deserve it, quite unfairly. She let the crisp white and sweet smell of the linen cupboard soothe her while she worked on the rotas and arranged it meticulously. Feeling that her temper was slightly cooling, she proceeded downstairs hoping to get some peace and quiet. She was not entirely cooled down as yet and she hope that a nice cup of tea would do the trick. She just hoped that Mrs Patmore wouldn't come barging in with one of her complaints, particularly the one about the store cupboard key. An exploding battle with a certain persistent, red-faced Cook was the last thing that Mrs Hughes wanted that morning.

Unknown to her several hours of the morning had passed by during her session at the linen cupboard and by the time she reached downstairs the sun was bursting with light outside. Wearily she walked down the corridor to her little sitting room. When she approached it, she found the door closed and a sobbing sound coming from within. She expected another of her maids to be crouched in the corner, completely overtaken by homesickness. Or maybe Jane, finally repenting.

But when she opened the door slowly so as not to startle anyone inside, she saw the form of a little girl crouched in the corner, her head buried in her hands and long dark locks falling down her shoulders.

"Lady Sybil?" the Housekeeper asked in her kindest voice, quite worried as to what the young girl was doing downstairs all by her own.

"Mrs Hughes?" the tear stained face of the seven year old looked up from where it was nestled on her knees, covered by her hands.

"Oh milady what are you doing here?" she asked as she rushed to where the little girl was seated on the floor. With some difficulty she went on her knees to get in level with the girl, realising that her vantage point would not do.

"I wanted to get away from Edith and Mary," little Lady Sybil replied with a sob and started crying softly again.

Watching the poor girl so sad broke Elsie Hughes' heart and she threw propriety and decorum to the wind as she decided to console her.

"Come here lassie," she said as she stretched out her arms to the young girl.

Little lady Sybil scuttled forward into the Housekeeper's arms and curled up as Mrs Hughes wrapped her arms around the little girl. Sybil cried very loudly into the Housekeeper's chest as she stroked the girl's back in gentle and even strokes.

"There, there lassie. It's alright. Everything is alright," she whispered into Sybil's ear as the little girl cried away.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sybil stayed snuggled into the Housekeeper's chest for several minutes till her sobs eased and the tears in her eyes had begun to dry. She began to love the warmth and affection given to her by the kind Housekeeper whom she often thought to be a Highland Witch. She loved how Mrs Hughes gently stroked her back and whispered soothing words into her ears, when all of her nannies would almost bend down on their knees in front of her. She gently inhaled the smell of fresh linen and the faint smell of wood smoke that tainted the cheap lavender fragrance from a simple perfume. Finally after what seemed like an eternity to the seven year old, she pulled away from the Housekeeper's embrace.

"There you are wee lassie," Mrs Hughes said in her melodic Scottish lilt that made the young girl laugh gently. Sybil decided to experiment speaking like Mrs Hughes when she was alone. There was something so sweet and musical about it that Sybil thought was truly amazing.

"A bit alright now?" Mrs Hughes asked softly to which Sybil nodded.

"Shall we get off the floor now milady? I'm not sure whether my knees like staying down here," the housekeeper joked as she tried to raise herself from the cold ground only to realise that it would not be as easy as she had expected. The young girl quickly rose to her feet and helped the older woman by extending her hand. Mrs Hughes took the young girl's hand but took no strength from it, knowing that it was more out of kindness than ability that it was extended to her.

"I'm sorry Mrs Hughes if I bothered you," Sybil smiled from behind her tear stained cheeks.

"Oh never mind my dear. What about we have a nice chocolate cookie that I have hidden somewhere here and you tell me all about what's bothering you?" Mrs Hughes asked in a gentle voice and watched in amusement as the little girl's eyes lit up at the mention of chocolate cookies.

"Children will be children, never mind if they are wee lassies or little ladies," Elsie thought and a smile crossed her face.

Sybil sat herself down at the sofa in the sitting room as Mrs Hughes walked to her cupboard to fetch her jar of chocolate cookies. Sybil's curious eyes travelled from one corner to the other of the sitting room eyeing the little intricacies that decorated the Housekeeper's homely sitting room. Mrs Hughes sat herself down on the settee and offered Sybil the open jar from which she graciously took one out.

Sybil took a small bite off her considerably large cookie and when she was almost finished with that bite Mrs Hughes asked, "Why were you hiding in here milady?"

"Edith and Mary told me that I'm not their sister," the loud voice that began the sentence trailed off into a whisper.

"Of course you are their sister, milady," Mrs Hughes replied with a chuckle.

"But they said I was not. They said that I was brought over from the village and that I am not a lady," Sybil replied in a pained voice.

"You were born in this very house milady. I saw you the day you were born. Such a pretty wee bairn," Mrs Hughes said as she gently squeezed Sybil's cheek.

"What is a bairn Mrs Hughes?" Sybil asked with a new found curiosity about the queer word.

"Oh it's what we Scots call babies," Mrs Hughes answered, rather amused by how the sad face of the young girl faded and one of curiosity took its place.

"But what if I am not a lady?" her little eyes tainted with fear and sorrow again.

"You are a little Lady, milady. Every bit, as much as them," Mrs Hughes consoled the little girl.

"So you are sure I was not brought over from the village?"

"Of course milady! Trust me," she replied as she contemplated on how delicate little minds were and how a few simple words were able to make a lasting impression in them, for good or for bad.

"Mary and Edith told that I should not be in the nursery with them. Would sisters be so mean? If they were my sisters would they be so mean?" Sybil's worried voice returned.

"Siblings can be mean to each other milady but that doesn't mean that they don't love you. It's what sisters are like," Mrs Hughes consoled the little lady as she remembered what she got up to with her own lovely sister. Becky was a kind and gentle soul but Elsie was mean to her at times, but still loved her all the same from the bottom of her heart.

A slight smile formed on the little girl's face as she finished the cookie. Mrs Hughes held the jar to her again and Sybil gave a sweet smile reluctantly looking away. She would like another cookie but wondered if it was polite to do so.

"Go on. I know you would like another. I know that look in little girls!" Mrs Hughes teased and Sybil took another cookie with a mischievous smile.

"Thank you Mrs Hughes!" she whispered excitedly. After a couple of bites Sybil decided to resume her story.

"So I ran away from them and came here. Because I knew they can't find me down here. I didn't know where to hide but I chose here. I wouldn't go to Carson's pantry. He frightens me and of course he only likes Mary," Sybil finished with an angry face.

"I don't frighten you?" Mrs Hughes asked with a wink.

"Mary told me that you were a Highland witch who stole children and turned them into cupboards, beds, vases and all sorts of things. She told me that every night after everyone's gone to bed you sneak children into the Abbey and turn them into things and one day you'll do that to us too if we go out of the nursery late at night. I was frightened but I had to take a risk you know," Sybil replied strongly in an adorable matter-of-fact voice.

"Lady Mary told you so? May be I should consider turning her into a little clock. Or… better still, a teacup," Mrs Hughes replied acting as if she was contemplating on the choice and raised a finger to chin as if she was thinking, making Sybil's eyes go wide as saucers.

"Mary told Carson would protect her though," Sybil said, finally excited about the prospect of Mary turning into a tea cup.

"Then I'll just have to turn him into a hat stand," Mrs Hughes replied as if the task of turning people into things were her speciality.

"Oh…" was all Sybil could manage and Mrs Hughes burst out laughing.

"You won't do anything to me, would you?" Sybil asked, slightly frightened.

"If Nanny says you were naughty I might have to think about it," Mrs Hughes replied still laughing and Sybil gulped.

"I won't be Mrs Hughes," Sybil replied as she got down from the settee and prepared to leave. She was smiling now too, having been infected with Mrs Hughes' melodic laugh.

"There's a good little Lady," Mrs Hughes patted Sybil's cheek and smiled gently. For a moment Sybil thought how kind Mrs Hughes was despite the possible fact that she was a witch, and then hurried to the door.

She turned the door handle and then looked back at the black clad figure of Mrs Hughes still seated on the settee and asked with some doubt and worry lacing her voice, "you aren't really a witch, are you?" at which Mrs Hughes chuckled.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

A new day had dawned outside and the golden rays of sunshine were gently kissing the grass and flowers outside, slowly sneaking through windows and thin curtains. The day was beginning but downstairs everyone was already a quarter of the way through their working day. Mrs Hughes had already done her morning rounds, supervised the housemaids who were getting the many rooms of the house ready for the Family and made sure the scullery maids had finished making fires and were downstairs by then. The upstairs breakfast would begin soon but Mrs Hughes had a large stack of invoices to deal with before luncheon. The new grocery orders would come before luncheon and a fresh pile of invoices would fill her desk and Mrs Hughes knew that fighting one battle at a time was easier than two together.

Mrs Hughes was not even half way through the invoices when an almost quiet tap on the door of her sitting room brought her from the world of numbers to that of the living. For a fraction of a second she wondered who it can be. She wondered whether it was Jane who was acting very timid after yesterday's dressing down.

"Come in," she answered and the door opened to reveal not Jane nor Anna. Not even Mr Carson but little Lady Sybil with her eyes red and tears flowing down her chubby cheeks.

"Oh Milady," Mrs Hughes stood from her chair and the little girl ran towards her and wrapped her arms around her waist and cried loudly.

"There, there my dear. What is it, hmm?" she asked the little girl who kept on crying. For a moment Mrs Hughes felt the tenderness of the situation creeping up her body. She felt like a mother comforting her dearest little girl. She remembered how she consoled Anna when she was a young housemaid of just sixteen years, found crying in this very sitting room because some footmen had tried to harass her and she wanted her mother. This felt much the same but different at the same time. This was a very little girl with a much tender world and gentle emotions unlike that of a teenager.

Finally the little girl looked up at Mrs Hughes' kind blue eyes and whispered, "I'm running away Mrs Hughes."

"Oh dearie why is that? Come here, let's sit down and you tell all about it to me," she led the girl towards the settee and then sat down beside her.

"I don't want… to be here… anymore… Mrs Hughes," Sybil whispered amidst sobs.

"So why are you running away dear? It would upset your mother very much," Mrs Hughes asked treating the girl quite like a grown up, making Sybil feel important.

"It's Mary and Edith. They keep on saying they don't like me so I wanted to run away. Get away from them. I'll of course leave a letter for Mama telling where I am going and I'll find some work for me," Sybil replied, her sobs easing a little as she explained her childish plan to Mrs Hughes.

"But you know it would hurt your Mama and Papa a lot," Mrs Hughes still played on treating Sybil with the same seriousness as earlier realising that the girl needed some space for her own. Scoldings would not do.

"Yes, probably it would," Sybil's enthusiastic look faded for a moment and the lit up again.

"I know! Can I be a housemaid here, Mrs Hughes? I already know how to make my bed, I asked Anna to teach me. Mary doesn't! You can train me," Sybil's proposition made Mrs Hughes chuckle.

"So you want to be a housemaid here, milady?" Mrs Hughes asked putting on a mock frown to look as if she is actually considering employing Sybil.

"Yes, I think so. Would you take me?" Sybil asked excitedly.

"Well…" Mrs Hughes began to think, "I think I might take you in milady. You'll have to be in Daisy's room, there's no space elsewhere but I think she snore," Mrs Hughes replied quite excited about this little game she was playing. She didn't know at all if Daisy snored but chuckled happily at her white lie as Sybil scrunched her face at the mention of her possible roommate's snoring.

"Can't I sleep next to Anna?" Sybil asked innocently, still believing that she was actually going to be a housemaid.

"There's Gwen in Anna's room," Mrs Hughes replied, eyes twinkling as she watched the rebellious little girl.

"Can I…" Sybil stalled for a moment and started again, "can I sleep next to you Mrs Hughes?"

"Well… what would I say to the housemaids?" Mrs Hughes asked raising an eyebrow, quite amused by the direction of the conversation. But deep down in her mind she pictured the image. The little girl curled up against her in bed. Her little head resting in her arm. She could almost feel the warmth on her stomach and chest by thinking about a child cuddling against her. Long buried feelings surfaced again with a slight vengeance and she felt tears gathering in her eyes. She thought the child would not notice but Sybil was an attentive girl and an instant she saw the Housekeeper's eyes glisten with unshed tears. She reached a little hand to Mrs Hughes' hand and stroked her tiny fingers against Mrs Hughes' fingers, feeling the wrinkles and the hardened places on her palms due to decades of hard work.

"Do you get lonely Mrs Hughes?" Sybil asked in a soft whisper and a single tear escaped Mrs Hughes' eye.

"Sometimes yes, I miss my family and home but Downton is home to me now as much as Scotland is," she replied, smiling at the kind, little child.

Sybil noticed that a change of conversation was in order so she decided to change tracks and turned on a very bright and determined look, "So when do I start Mrs Hughes? Can I start today?"

"Hmmm… alright," Mrs Hughes wiped the trace of the tear which ran along her cheek and smiled.

"What should I do? Make a bed?" Sybil asked excitedly.

"Oh there's much more to learn before that milady," Mrs Hughes replied tactfully, "how about you help me with these numbers?"

"I'd be glad to!" Sybil literally skipped on the spot.

"Very well," Mrs Hughes said as she led the girl up to her desk. She sat down on her chair and took Sybil on to her lap. Immediately Sybil made herself comfortable on Mrs Hughes' lap and leaned slightly against her chest.

"So let's start. I'm working on the ledger. Filling in the some invoices. So do you know how much is this?" Mrs Hughes asked pointing at an invoice for sugar and flour.

"Twenty?" Sybil asked, not very sure about the number. Mrs Hughes nodded and they set to work with Mrs Hughes filling in the ledger and Sybil helping or rather imagining helping Mrs Hughes.

Mrs Hughes relished this precious moment. She always had an affinity to direct her affection towards the youngest Crawley daughter who was also the kindest and disliked the much stubborn and proud eldest. The middle one, she liked quite a lot, being mostly quiet and reserved. But of course she was mean at times too, quite nastily. But this bundle of joy leaning against her chest had not even a streak of unkindness in her and thus ended up being her favourite. Mrs Hughes couldn't help but stroke the girl's head occasionally when she was clever and savoured this beautiful feeling of having a child with her, a feeling she would never be able to describe.

**To be continued...**

**I would love to read what you think about this story in your reviews !**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Upstairs after leaving the nursery, Cora was terribly alarmed. Sybil was nowhere to be seen. She's even searched under her bed and everywhere in Robert's dressing room. That left the countless guest rooms and several other nooks and corners that she barely knew about. For a moment she wondered whether she should ask a maid or a footman to help her, but she shook her head and decided to look by herself. She knew Mary and Edith had been mean towards Sybil which made her very upset. She had already given Mary and Edith a good talking to. But Cora had to find Sybil by herself, cuddle her in her arms, hold her tight and tell her daughter that she loves her very much. And Cora started from one end of a corridor of guest rooms, one of many and many more.

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Very soon Cora realised the futility of her attempt. Even before she had covered half of the guest rooms, Cora felt exhausted. Leave out the rooms and still there's plenty of other places which she couldn't even guess the existence. Tired and miserable, Cora was almost about to find a footman when an idea sprang to her mind. She had completely forgotten downstairs! She had often heard of tales of Robert hiding downstairs and Rosamund's futile attempts to find him. With a flicker of new hope alight in her heart, Cora opened the almost invisible door to the staircase that led downstairs for the first time in two months.

There was quite sometime more for luncheon upstairs and the downstairs corridors were almost isolated. From the foot of the stairs Cora heard Mrs Patmore's voice from the kitchen. Instead of the usual frightening frenzy that was Mrs Patmore's voice when she was angry or busy, what now drifted from the kitchen sounded like a friendly and amused banter with the kitchen maids, probably some watercolour of an interesting experience painted into a colourful oil painting of a tale by Mrs Patmore's hilarious choice of words. Almost inaudible voices came from the servant's hall, one which Cora recognised to be Anna's. Carson was probably still upstairs, she had last seen him in the library discussing something with Robert. Cora walked gently across the corridor trying to make as less sound as possible with her pointed heels striking the stone floor. For a moment she wondered what mayhem it would be downstairs, especially in the mornings when everyone was running around with rushed footsteps across these hard and unfeeling floors.

She peeked into the Kitchen. Her first assumption was right. Mrs Patmore was entertaining some of the kitchen maids in a highly animated manner at the small table in the corner. They were all too preoccupied with their conversation that none of them seemed to notice Cora's presence, something for which Cora was grateful, now that she had concluded that Sybil was not in the kitchen. The last thing she wanted was for the servants to go looking for Sybil which would only result in the little girl disappearing into another place _if _she was present here.

She was about to make her way to the Servant's Hall which seemed to be the only place currently inhabited when a loud laugh of a child echoed from somewhere between the Butler's pantry and the Housekeeper's sitting room. Cora slowly stepped toward the Housekeeper's sitting room which was closest to her and peeked in through the door which was slightly opened and the sight that greeted her completely melted her heart.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**I am ever so grateful for your reviews! They make me so happy than words could ever say. Please don't hesitate to state in the reviews your ideas about this story. **


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sybil was seated on Mrs Hughes' lap comfortably and was laughing at something or the other that the amiable Scotswoman had said. She turned slightly from her almost cocooned position and her small hands rested on Mrs Hughes' shoulder as she reached up to place an adorable kiss on the Housekeeper's cheek and giggled shyly. Mrs Hughes wrapped the little girl into an enormous hug. A serene and kind look adorned her face as Sybil's dark hair met her cheek. The usually stern Housekeeper was replaced by an almost entirely different woman. _Like a mother herself, _Cora thought as she watched through misty eyes.

She had never seen Mrs Hughes look happier and Sybil so warm and free. Gone was the serious eyed Housekeeper and the timid little girl. Cora knew of how Carson took a shine to Mary, but it was nothing like what was now before her eyes. Mary still played a high and mighty Lady and Carson, her Butler at her service, ready to do anything for her. Mrs Hughes on the other hand seemed to treat Sybil like an ordinary child, like the gentle, growing souls of theirs ought to be treated.

Cora knew a bit of the caring side of Mrs Hughes and she often wondered whether Mrs Hughes missed being a mother. She did have a little army of maids that she genuinely _took care of_. But Cora knew what it feels like for a woman to be a mother and how she too waited impatiently for that treasured gift to be bestowed upon her. She didn't want to disturb the adorable happenings that were in her view but it made her very happy to watch unnoticed. Sybil being so alive and adorable and Mrs Hughes being so lovely.

"Did I do well Mrs Hughes?" Sybil asked excitedly as she looked ahead at the pile of invoices that was gradually decreasing.

"Very well indeed milady. You have indeed got quite a head for numbers I must say," Mrs Hughes replied as Sybil smiled to herself. The sums she did were mostly adding single numbers together, exercises that Mrs Hughes imposed upon her to keep her occupied. But for Sybil, it was a great achievement.

"And I loved the story of the Scottish princess! I wish I could climb trees like her. Have you climbed trees Mrs Hughes?" Sybil asked.

"Well I did in my time. Quite a bit of a wild haired lass I was. Ended up with bruises all across my legs and of course a good scolding from Ma," Mrs Hughes replied cheerfully and Sybil laughed trying to picture Mrs Hughes as a girl on a tree with bruises on her legs. However much she tried, Sybil couldn't unimagine the chatelaine that hung from Mrs Hughes' waist, which to her seemed very much part of Mrs Hughes as her dark hair and blue eyes.

"Do you think Mama would be proud of me?" Sybil asked again, her voice almost a whisper this time.

"She will be very proud Milady, to have a daughter so clever and kind," Mrs Hughes replied placing a soft kiss on to the dark hair of the little girl, almost the same shade as her own.

"She always seem to like Mary better than me. I don't think she likes me," Sybil voiced her sorrow. A sob formed at the base of Cora's throat that she suppressed with much effort.

"Oh my dear every mother loves her children more than words can ever say. Lady Mary is older so Her Ladyship might be helping her out a bit more to help her grow up but trust me she loves all three of you very much. I've never seen her happier than the day you were born milady. Now have you ever caught me lying have you?" Mrs Hughes winked and Sybil smiled, perfectly happy again.

Outside the door, tears were streaming freely down Cora's eyes. She felt a bit guilty for paying more attention to Mary over the past few years, helping her to grow into a real Lady. No wonder Sybil felt left out during a time when she needed affection. She also felt guilty about Mrs Hughes words. She was so happy at the birth of her third daughter who seemed to have a perfect blend of Robert's and her characteristics but she did feel quite disappointed that it was a girl again. No boy for the family. No heir to the title. And possibly no future Earl of Grantham who was a child of Robert's and hers (not that she did care about the damned title but Violet didn't make it any easier for her). A memory she was ashamed of flashed before her eyes.

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Not even a day had passed before Sybil had been born and Violet had sharply lashed out comments about Cora still not producing an heir. Her feelings had been deeply hurt and the initial love for the new born girl had vanished like a vapour in the wind replaced with an indescribable sorrow and a hint of regret. A moment after Robert had escorted Violet out of the room after the somewhat heated exchange of words, Cora was sitting in bed, tears in her eyes when the head housemaid entered through the open door with bowl full of water.

The dark haired, blue eyed Scottish woman with her kind smile gently placed the bowl of water on the little table by Cora's bed. Cora watched the careful movements of the housemaid when their gazes met. The same kind smile was projected at Cora which warmed her heart. Housemaids were often timid or too engrossed in their duties and ladies maids only seemed to faithful, they always had a hidden motive.

"All what matters is that _you_ love the child Milady. I know you do," were her only words in the melodic Scottish lilt, to Cora, who could only manage a smile. She had only known the head housemaid to be a composed woman, whom she could never read. But her words that day gave her strength against all what the Crawley clan had to say to her. _All what mattered was that __**she**__ loved her girl._

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The same Scottish Head Housemaid was now Housekeeper. Her words seven years ago were almost forgotten till they rose to the surface of Cora's conscience with a flood of guilt. The same woman who reminded her that she loved her girl despite all was now comforting the same girl she once wished was a boy and unknowingly reminding Cora again that she loved her daughter, a love she had forgotten to show, a love she ought to show.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

…**...**

**The last chapter was quite short. I'm never into cliff hangers but I sort of **_**had to**_** make the last one a cliff hanger! Sorry about that and thank you all for waiting so patiently for this instalment. Thank you so much again for all your reviews, they keep me motivated and ofcourse makes me so happy. I haven't decided on an exact amount of chapters yet but this story might go on for a few more. I'd love to read your thoughts on this in the reviews.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Anna stood from her chair at the servant's hall and walked towards the corridor with a mended tablecloth neatly folded and draped across her lower arm and her sewing basket in the other. She had borrowed a needle from Mrs Hughes when she had accidently snapped all hers in half making vain attempts of trying to poke through the thick cloth of the table cloth. She knew she should have known better than to stick needles used to sew silk across the hard linen of the table cloth and she certainly deserved "the look" and the mild telling off she got from Mrs Hughes.

She was making her way towards the Housekeeper's sitting room to return the needle and the table cloth when she spotted Lady Grantham standing on the corridor and peering into Mrs Hughes' sitting room. To Anna, it was a certainly odd sight. Why was Her Ladyship downstairs at this highly unusual hour? Why wasn't she entering the room? And why on earth was she peering through the slightly open door? Confusion written all over her face, Anna walked towards Lady Grantham and when she was close enough she spoke out.

"Mila-" Anna was cut short when Cora shot her head towards Anna's direction and placed her finger on her lips indicating her to remain quiet. For a fraction of a second Anna stopped in her tracks and then with soft steps reached Lady Grantham wondering what this unusual behaviour was all about. Anna stepped to Her Ladyship's side and peered inside through the opening. A "Cheshire cat grin" (with perfectly good intentions and innocent amusement) formed on her lips as she gauged the sight of Sybil on Mrs Hughes' lap.

Anna couldn't help but contemplate how utterly adorable the older woman was with the little girl and how simple yet beautiful it all looked. No wonder Her Ladyship was mesmerised. Anna looked up to Cora's face who was still watching the two inside and saw streaks of dried tears glistening in the dim light of the basement.

She did fear Mrs Hughes as did all other footmen and maids. No one could get past her with any sort of mischief or wrong doing. Her regime was firm and strict yet never unfair. She was kind, compassionate and flexible (unlike Mr Carson who would never back out from his opinion). But Anna felt sorry that Mrs Hughes didn't have many friends. Mrs Patmore was the only woman of a similar age (Miss O'Brien was out of question) yet she was always at the Housekeeper's throat over something or the other. She only shared a friendship with Mr Carson and besides that she was quite lonely. But to the maids who rarely realised her worth she was like a second mother.

After several more moments of watching together, Sybil now enjoying a very animated story telling by Mrs Hughes, Lady Grantham bent down towards Anna and whispered, "I believe we should leave them and let them be." She walked slowly towards the stairs in soft steps and Anna turned back towards the servant's hall, a beautiful smile adorning her face.

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"It's very close to luncheon milady," Mrs Hughes said as she watched Sybil distractedly fumbling with the invoices and the various other things on the Housekeeper's desk.

"I don't want to go back Mrs Hughes," Sybil replied, still engaged in her exploration.

"Her Ladyship must be waiting for you dear," she tried again.

"But Mrs Hughes…" Sybil started protesting.

But Mrs Hughes cut her short, "No! You are going upstairs for luncheon young Lady," she said while ruffling the sweet, dark head of hair.

"Please!" Sybil started a vain pleading.

"Remember? If you start being naughty I'll turn you into something. A sugar shifter! Yes, a sugar shifter," Mrs Hughes countered faking a villainous tone. Sybil shifted slightly on Mrs Hughes' lap and she knew it had the desired effect and a slightly mischievous smile played upon he lips. Sybil gently slid down from Mrs Hughes' lap on to the ground and faced her.

"I'd better go up then. Would you mind if I come down here again?" the little girl asked, her eyes fluttering.

"Not if you have permission from Her Ladyship," Mrs Hughes smiled at the young Lady. How could she say no to that adorable face? And of course it was a refreshing change for Mrs Hughes to have a child around her. A change that she loved so much. Sybil giggled and walked towards the door only to turn back and skip towards Mrs Hughes' chair. She reached up on tip toes and placed a sweet little kiss on the Housekeeper's cheek and skipped back towards the door to leave.

A happy sigh escaped Mrs Hughes' lips. The sweet little girl made her feel things she had never expected to feel. Made her show emotions she had never dared to imagine. There was something so different about her, from the other Crawley daughters. Something that reminded Mrs Hughes of the girl she once was. Something that reminded her of Elsie who grew up into Mrs Hughes. The same enthusiasm and curiosity. With Sybil's absence from her lap, Mrs Hughes felt quite empty. She felt a cold feeling invading her as the warmth of the girl was lost to her. Maybe this is what mothers felt, when the watched their children grow. Maybe this was what her mother felt, when she left Becky and her behind, in promise of a better future for them all.

Another sigh and Mrs Hughes got up from her chair to head upstairs to assist with the arrangements for the upstairs luncheon, a smile on her face, only to meet Anna on the staircase who smiled to herself perfectly knowing the reason behind the Housekeeper's smile.

**To be continued…**

**Thank you so much for your reviews! They make me happy than words can say. So… please don't hesitate to leave a review with your ideas on this story.**


	7. Chapter 7

_**I really didn't think**_ _**that I would come this far with this story. Initially I thought of covering around three chapters but now a point where I would end this story is absolutely out of sight. I might even go on for about three more chapters, or even more. And thank you so much for your kind reviews! They keep me going. **_

Chapter 7

Mr Carson knocked on Mrs Hughes' sitting room with a tea tray in his hand and entered without waiting for her response. They were very close colleagues and it was several years before that they had forgone the habit of waiting for a response to enter each other's working spaces, his pantry and her sitting room. Mrs Hughes was arranging her desk with a bright smile on her face and humming a tune very softly. Mr Carson had rarely seen her in such a good mood, a mood that was sufficient enough to make her _hum_. Humming was his habit, one that never faded since his days in the music halls. He placed the tea tray on the nearby table and pulled out a chair. She gave a pile of papers one last shuffle and placed it in a corner of her very messy desk. To Mr Carson, this was a very strange setting. He has never seen the Housekeeper like this before, humming a tune, a messy desk. He knew her to be someone who despised untidiness with her life. She couldn't bear to see a picture on the walls crooked, a flower sticking out of an arrangement or even her own two pens not parallel on the desk. Mr Carson wondered about it as he waited for her to join her.

She walked to the table and sat down. He followed, ever the gentleman. Without a word she started pouring the tea on to the two cups and then added a lump of sugar to hers and three to his (he had a very sweet tooth and she knew it well). Mr Carson studied her expression slowly return to normal, to the usual one.

"You are bright as a summer day today Mrs Hughes," Mr Carson commented with a chuckle and Mrs Hughes let out a small laugh.

"Well what do you I look like on other days Mr Carson? Like a rainy day in March?" Mrs Hughes countered and Mr Carson let out a defeated sigh.

"It's not fair that you are always able to get away. Why can't I overturn your victory anytime?" he let out defeated sigh again.

"Then you should try harder Mr Carson. You know me Mr Carson. Scottish women are known to put up a fight," Mrs Hughes replied with chuckling victoriously.

"Well, even though you being the only specimen of that species I've known well, I have no option than to agree," Mr Carson laughed and a wide victorious smile lit up Mrs Hughes' face.

"But Mrs Hughes you are not getting away! What is the secret behind this very amiable mood of yours? A highly unlikely one for you at this time of the day," Mr Carson resisted Mrs Hughes' teasing.

"You'll think I'm going soft with old age," she replied while laughing.

"Elsie Hughes going soft! I doubt the sun would begin to rise in the west from tomorrow morning!" he commented at which Mrs Hughes shot him a sharp look.

"Alright! Alright! You were saying?" he asked innocently and Mrs Hughes' couldn't help but smile inside to herself as to how adorably he accepted his defeat.

"I employed a new housemaid today," Mrs Hughes replied calmly trying to tease Mr Carson a bit. For Elsie Hughes, the day did not feel complete if she hadn't teased the Butler to her heart's content.

"A new housemaid? I haven't seen anyone new around. Besides I've never seen employing a new housemaid to have this effect on you. Who is it?" he said, utterly surprised. If Elsie Hughes would be this happy for employing a new housemaid he'd have a queue of them outside each day.

"Lady Sybil," Mrs Hughes replied in a very ordinary tone and bit her lower lip to prevent herself from laughing. The surprised Butler choked on his tea and coughed several times to retain his composure yet ended up with a bewildered look painted across his face.

"What do you mean _Lady Sybil_?" he asked in utter amazement.

"She wanted to run away and came to me asking for work. Poor little lass. She was so sad and the only thing she could think was to run away," Mrs Hughes replied with a smile.

"But why would she _run away_?"

Mrs Hughes knew she had to take the opportunity. For the reason behind the little girl's sorrow was the Butler's favourite for whom he did anything except worship.

"Because _your precious Lady Mary_ was hurting her," Mrs Hughes replied with a very stern face.

"What do you mean _hurting her_? Lady Mary would do no such thing!" he countered with full confidence.

"Well to begin with she had had Lady told Lady Sybil that she was not their sister and that she was brought over from the village, not their mother's daughter. And kept on saying that Lady Sybil does not belong with them and ought to leave the nursery," she finished leaving a suitable stunned and thoroughly defeated Butler.

"That is… well… that is… not exactly…" he stuttered trying to find a suitable adjective without harming the image of his favourite young Lady.

"Mean, wicked, unfeeling, insensitive... You want more or are they enough?" Mrs Hughes asked with a very stern look. She never understood why Lady Mary could do no wrong in the Butler's eyes. She personally thought that it was not good for a child's upbringing if their faults were not pointed out and advised as to how to correct them. She suppressed a scowl that she felt emerging on her face.

"I believe I would have to agree with the sentiment of your conclusion but not in the exact sense inferred by those words Mrs Hughes," Mr Carson agreed meekly. He would defend Lady Mary with all his might but given the accusation placed in front of her, it seemed that this time he couldn't wash her clean. Mr Carson noted how Mrs Hughes' face relaxed as he accepted the guilt of Lady Mary. He watched her look return to be the tender and happy one he noticed earlier when he entered her sitting room.

"I assume you had a nice time with Lady Sybil?" he asked gently. He couldn't guess what she did with the child but he knew she would not send the child away with an explanation. Mrs Hughes, though how well she tried to hide it, had an extremely caring side and he knew it very well, having been on the receiving end of her kindness and consideration many times than he could count.

"It was a lovely time Mr Carson. I didn't want to disappoint her so I let her do some sums with me as I filled out the ledger, let her feel as if she's working," her reply ended with a short laugh. Mr Carson waited for her to resume her sentence, he felt how she was finding ways to bring her thoughts to words.

"I told her some stories and… you know what you tell little girls. It's that I felt… I felt… I mean…" she stuttered and Mr Carson watched helplessly as tears formed in her eyes and her lips trembled softly. His heart leaped out at the sight of her. He wanted to comfort her, to reach out. While his thoughts were battling between love and propriety he watched as the woman who walked the halls like an unfeeling ray of sunshine break down and his heart shattered to a million pieces.

**To be continued…**

**I promise to update as soon as possible but something always stands in my way. I have doubts about this chapter, I'll promise make the coming ones better. **


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Mrs Hughes…" Mr Carson whispered. How he wished he could place his hand over hers and stroke her fingers softly? How he wished he could lay his fingers on her cheek and reassure her? But he struggled with his urges and let his words convey his thoughts.

"I'm quite alright Mr Carson," she said smiling amidst her tears and letting the back of her hand wipe her tears, "just a bit…" She struggled to find a word to describe what she was feeling.

"Muddled?" he offered and she nodded.

"I assume that is what I am," she smiled again and the pain eased slightly from Mr Carson, though not fully.

"It's that when Lady Sybil was sitting on my lap…" she began but struggled again. Mr Carson felt a rush of emotions so strong that he could kiss her hair and wrap his arms around her, but he hid it away. He wished he could, but not yet, but one day he thought he would. Instead he reached his hand forward and took Mrs Hughes' hand which was resting on the table. He gave it a gentle squeeze and stroked the side of her wrist with her thumb.

For a fraction of a second Mrs Hughes found herself to be breathless. His small gesture, she knew, conveyed a hundred more gestures that he wished he could put into action. She was grateful for the strength he gave her and felt immensely happy at the possibility that he might echo the feeling and sentiments she felt towards him, a love she never spoke out loud about. She took a deep breath, now that she had the support and strength she needed, she knew she could face this.

After a moment of silence spent relishing the intimate feeling of this small but loving gesture Mrs Hughes began again.

"When she was sitting on my lap, I felt different. I felt as if I was a different person. Emotions I never thought I would experience. It felt as if I was…" she paused again.

"Loving and protective," he completed the sentence for her. He knew entirely how it felt for her. If the situations in her life, whatever that led her to enter a life of service, were different she would have made a very good mother, he thought quite sorrowfully. If he had met her in an entirely different life, he would have made her his wife already. He would have had children with her. Tall children with blue eyes and black hair and accents with rolling "r"s.

"Yes," she whispered, "She's such a dear little lassie, Mr Carson. So full of love and curiosity. Just like an ordinary little girl."

Mr Carson smiled as he watched her contemplating on Lady Sybil. He thought how beautiful Elsie looked at that moment, a blissful smile painted across her lips. _Elsie!_ He thought quite flustered. He had just called Mrs Hughes by her first name. _Relax old man it's only in your mind. It's much better off than the dreams you have about her at night_, he thought. Mr Carson, felt happy in an awkward way, that at least in his mind he thought of her not as a Housekeeper but as a woman.

"I wish…" Mrs Hughes began to speak but a knock on her door and Anna rushed in. Mr Carson swiftly took his hand off Mrs Hughes' and one look at the girl was enough to tell him that Anna had not noticed that tiny detail.

"Mrs Hughes, you better come quickly. Something's gone wrong with the flour and Mrs Patmore is putting up quite a riot," she spoke as fast as she could, gasping for breath. Mrs Hughes sighed and got up from her chair.

"Here's me thinking that I could pass _one day_ without mention of that _bloody_ store cupboard key," Mrs Hughes muttered and followed Anna out of the door.

Mr Carson watched her leave and let out a sigh of his own. He didn't know what Mrs Hughes was just about to say before they were interrupted but he could guess. It must be about missing having children of her own. It was extremely rarely that Mrs Hughes let any of her personal feelings out and even if she did, it was only a hint and only in his presence. He could read her fairly well but not as well as she could read him. He didn't think about a family often, and certainly not with anyone else but he knew that to Elsie this was a great deal. She would have actually made a good mother, he often concluded having watched her comforting many a maid and footman, hall boys too. And something in her past made her give it all up, he guessed, though he could not guess what it was. Whatever the reason was, it was buried deep in her heart and often rose with vengeance, threatening to tear her apart.

They both had secrets, he knew it. He also knew that she couldn't make a guess about even half of his life before service, a past he had locked away. Of music halls, women he once loved (never as strongly as he loved her, it was her and only her for him since she walked through the doors of Downton) but forgotten with time, stage partners, vulgar jokes and merry laughter induced by an extra pint or two. He hoped for a day when they could lay bare their secrets and their souls. But he didn't know when or how.

**To be continued…**

**Thank you so much for taking your time to review this story. And also a big thank you for all guest readers, whom I cannot thank personally. Hope that I can keep up this steady speed of updating throughout the story. I still haven't decided on a definite number of chapter and still I am going with the flow, one chapter after the other. Hope you are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing this **


	9. Chapter 9

_**The last two chapters saw Mrs Hughes becoming more emotional than we are used to, I had my own doubts writing it. But at the end I concluded that once in a while she too can get emotional, especially since those buried emotions have been invoked with her time with Lady Sybil.**_

Chapter 9

Cora sat at her mirror trying tuck away some strands of hair that had come loose from her hairstyle after her quick walk in the gardens. She could have asked O'Brien but she felt that it wasn't that difficult and that she could manage it. It wasn't long before she was proved wrong for the intricate hairstyle with its slightly ruffled appearance (thanks to the strong Northern winds) was now quite a terrible mess. Cora tuned her head to both sides and patted the intricate twists and turns which were O'Brien's handiwork that was now looking like a failed attempt of a farm girl to imitate a stately lady. She let out a frustrated sigh and stared at her face in the mirror with an empty feeling, without thinking.

The loud noise of the door opening behind her and the door knob knocking on the wall with a loud crash woke her from her reverie with a start and she turned around to see Sybil standing in her door way with an apologetic smile with a hint of mischief adorning her lips and a sparkle in her eyes.

Cora let out a tender smile, the emotions from earlier in the morning still raw in her heart. For a fraction of a second she wondered how she should begin to talk to her own daughter but she strongly pushed those fears to the side of her mind and stretched out her arms. Sybil half ran and half skipped into Cora's arms and as Cora wrapped her arms around the pretty, sweet girl, Sybil let out a contented sigh. It had been quite some time since she was wrapped up in her mother's arms like this. A minute or two and Sybil wriggled out of Cora's arms in excitement, eager to tell her what she had been up to earlier in the morning.

"Mama," she began in her adorable voice that could melt the hearts of anyone from the Countess to the Housekeeper or the Earl to the housemaids, "do you know that I did something very exciting today?" she asked trying hard not to fidget in excitement remembering her regal grandmother's advice. (_No young Lady wriggles and fidgets on the spot with no composure or patience. That is very, very low class, _she had said with a disapproving tut)

"Why don't we snuggle up in bed and you tell me all about it darling," Cora stood up from her seat at the mirror and led Sybil towards the bed, at which the young girl jumped up on to the bed excitedly and made herself comfortable, wiggling her back among the pillows till she felt completely comfortable. This made Cora smile, thinking how different Sybil was from her other daughters. So wild. So free. Much like the little girl she was back in her days in New York. The free spirited American girl who became a solemn lipped, English Countess. She followed Sybil and settled down, and the little girl scooted close to Cora till her head was laying against Cora's shoulder.

"I became a housemaid today," Sybil stated excitedly, taking matters so serious as if she was really offered the appointment.

"Oh did you now?" Cora asked raising an eyebrow, highly amused.

"Yes, I asked Mrs Hughes, she thought for a while and gave me the post. I thought she wouldn't say yes. That I wasn't good enough to be one," Sybil replied without the slightest idea about the little stunt the clever Housekeeper pulled to keep the young girl occupied and away from her fears and worries.

"So what did you do on your first day at work?" Cora asked, realising how alive and energetic the young girl was. She wanted to savour this moment with her daughter telling her all about her day, like an ordinary mother and daughter. Not a Countess and a young Lady. (Certainly not what the Dowager Countess would approve).

"Well," Sybil began, took a moment to recall and started again," I did sums and helped Mrs Hughes out with the ledger."

"That is so great my darling. You are so clever!"

Sybil grinned like a Cheshire cat at the complement, "Mrs Hughes did say that I've got a good head for numbers."

"What else did you do?" Cora asked, pretending not to know about the story telling and of course the very emotional conversation that struck deep into the roots of her soul.

"Well she did tell me some stories. There was one about a Scottish princess who climbed trees and ran in fields and did so many exciting things. And I think I might like to grow up like her too. It seems so fun to run about. But not when Granny is around," Sybil ended her excited flood of details on a solemn note at the mention of the Dowager Countess and Cora couldn't help but laugh.

"Mrs Hughes had climbed trees too Mama. Did you know that she grew up on a farm?" Sybil asked and waited not wanting to continue till she's had her mother's answer.

"Well, I suppose I didn't," Cora replied not for first time thinking how little they knew about those who worked for them and of course knew everything about them. But unlike Sybil, Cora could imagine Mrs Hughes as a carefree and cheeky farm girl, for she had several times overheard Mrs Hughes attacking Carson in their arguments with a mischievous note about her voice.

"Mama, did you climb trees?" Sybil asked curiously not entirely imagining her prim and proper mother in her elegant clothes would have ever even tried to climb a tree.

"I didn't climb trees but I did run on fields and every once in a while swim in the river behind our country house secretly with my brother," Cora replied with chuckling and making Sybil's eyes open wide in disbelief. Her mother swimming in the river! Sybil couldn't believe her ears.

"And I'm the one who can't walk beyond the bench under the oak tree without Nanny," Sybil pouted.

"Oh darling you'll be able to, when you grow a bit older. I promise," Cora reassured and Sybil eased the childish frown across her forehead.

"And Mama…" Sybil began but paused not knowing how to continue.

"Yes, darling," Cora coaxed Sybil to continue by taking her little fingers in her own hand.

Sybil gulped in fear. Mrs Hughes' words played across her mind. But she had to know for herself from her mother. Taking a determined breath she began again.

"Mama… do you love me?" she asked in a feeble voice and Cora's heart melted again.

"Oh my darling girl," she said and wrapped Sybil up into a tight hug. "I love you more than words can ever say."

"Not only Edith and Mary? Me too?" Sybil asked into her mother's chest.

"Of course my dear. I love you so, so much. I have loved you since the day you were born and I still love you very, very much," Cora reassured and didn't try to stop the streams of tears that began in her eyes and flowed down her cheeks.

Sybil snuggled even more impossibly closer to Cora. It was true. Her mother loved her very, very much. She had been wrong and Mrs Hughes had been right.

**To be continued…**

**Thank you everyone again for all your kind reviews! They are all the encouragement I need to keep this story going. And I am really loving this whole experience of writing this story. And sorry for taking so long to update. University work got a bit ahead of me. But I'll try to update as soon as possible (within a week at the maximum). Thank you again for the reviews and don't hesitate to write what you think about this story in your reviews. **


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

_A few days later…_

"If I don't have access to the store cupboard how on earth am I supposed to organise the meals to the level of precision I want?" Mrs Patmore roughly questioned a very exhausted and weary looking Housekeeper who nevertheless didn't want to accept any form of defeat or sign any form of truce.

"Now you got it wrong there Mrs Patmore. You do have access to the store cupboard," Mrs Hughes countered, glad of the little miss of words of the adamant Cook.

"Access? Access? You call that access? I only get to look at it when it crosses your blessed mind," replied the Cook with no intention of giving up easily.

"Which is every time when access to it is required," the Housekeeper attacked with a very smug look on her face. The Cook huffed in frustration and her face went very red, forcing the Housekeeper to bite back a giggle.

"Don't you see that if I don't have _free access _to the store cupboard, there is bound to be errors in the grocery list and of course forcing someone to fetch the remainder," the relentless Cook carried on.

"Well, it's your responsibility to see that your grocery list is complete using the resources provided to you. And if there is any ingredient lacking I will see that it is provided," the Housekeeper replied much calmly, knowing that the victory is well and truly hers.

"See that you do," Mrs Patmore said and burst out of the room with heavy footsteps slamming the door of the Housekeeper's sitting room behind her.

Mrs Hughes let out an exhausted sigh. These petty battles over a mere store cupboard key was getting on her nerves.

"What a _brilliant_ way to start a Monday morning!" Mrs Hughes thought. To Mrs Patmore, arguing over the authority of the store cupboard key every Monday morning had become much of a ritual as it was for her to go to church every Sunday. Every Monday morning after the upstairs breakfast, the Cook would come bursting into the Housekeeper's sitting room complaining about some ingredient that she needed being missed out of the grocery list, directly accusing it to be a result of the Housekeeper's reluctance to let go of the authority over the store cupboard key. Mrs Hughes knew how much effort she put into getting that damned grocery list correct and she had by then arrived at the conclusion that the Cook was deliberately introducing a mistake onto the grocery list, leaving out an optional ingredient, just to get at the Housekeeper.

She shook her head quite ferociously a couple of times to clear her mind and focused on setting down the list of duties for the maids for the remaining days of the week only to interrupted by a knock on her door. Her rush of anger from her earlier exchange of words with the Cook had not receded and she answered "Come in" with clear frustration written in her voice.

The poor victim of the tirade of Scottish temper about to erupt was one Butler with strong views on propriety bringing yet another complaint about the maids. Mr Carson entered the sitting room without registering the frustrated tone of the Housekeeper.

"Mrs Hughes I must say your maids are completely out of control this morning!" he complained in his booming voice and Mrs Hughes swivelled towards him on her chair, an annoyed look on her face and fire in her eyes. The Scottish Dragon ready to breath fire.

"What have they done?" she asked and it was only then that Mr Carson realised that he may be recipient of some serious secondary rounds of fire following some unknown major attack. But he continued nevertheless with the same confidence that he began.

"They were giggling uncontrollably in the dining room today before breakfast was served, probably over something silly and useless, and disrupted the arrangement of an entire place setting. The distance between all cutleries had changed and everything was crooked by the time I got there. They are really becoming a handful these days Mrs Hughes!" he finished his speech and tugged at his waistcoat.

"Is the Family alright? Anyone taken ill? Should we call the Doctor? Wonder how they are bearing that disaster," Mrs Hughes shot her words at the Butler with massive amounts of sarcasm.

"This is a serious matter we are dealing with Mrs Hughes," Mr Carson replied in a much less loud voice than earlier. He would never admit it but sometimes he did fear the Housekeeper's temper.

"Aye I know how _serious you think it is._ It's probably a difference less than a few inches not feet or miles," she replied rolling her eyes, her brogue more pronounced.

"But it's a matter of discipline Mrs Hughes!" he thundered and Mrs Hughes let out another exhausted sigh.

"I'll advise them about it. And _warn them_ about it," she replied loud and then mumbled beneath her breath, "If that pleases you."

Mr Carson did hear the last bit that Mrs Hughes uttered and walked out of the room taking long strides and shutting the door behind him.

Two utterly unimportant complaints had disrupted her morning and left her in a terrible mood. She turned back to her desk, let out an annoyed sound and slightly banged her fist down on the table. She picked up her pen and dipped it angrily in her ink letting out a rather loud clink and was about to write on her notebook when another knock sounded on her door.

"What in _heaven's name _is it _now_?" she asked angrily as she swivelled around in her chair to face a very frightened Lady Sybil whose eyes were wide open in wonder.

"Oh… Milady… I'm so sorry" Mrs Hughes literally froze on the spot.

After a few awkward seconds Sybil slightly turned her head back and said, "I think I should probably leave. It's not a good time…"

"No, no Milady it's alright," Mrs Hughes stopped Sybil midway through her sentence, "How can I help you?" she asked sweetly smiling at the young girl, the anger from moments before dissipating instantly.

"I wondered…" Sybil paused doubting whether she would be intruding.

"Yes Milady?" Mrs Hughes asked and encouraged Sybil to go on, her charming smile enchanting the young girl out of her doubts.

"I was wondering if I could help you out like that day… well… I'm a housemaid now after all, I nearly forgot," Sybil replied shyly looking at her shoes and faced the Housekeeper, watching intently how faint sparks played across the depths of her deep blue eyes.

"Of course," Mrs Hughes reached out her arm and Sybil took a few more steps but stopped abruptly.

"Are you sure I'm not disturbing?" she asked, worried again.

"No you're not my dear. You're afraid I'll turn you up into something if I am angry?" Mrs Hughes asked, mischievously pulling on a very wicked look.

"Partially," Sybil replied with much more confidence, making Mrs Hughes smile. _This wee lassie is adorable beyond words_, Mrs Hughes thought and reached out her arm again. Sybil skipped up to the Housekeeper's chair and sat on her lap. Then wiggled about to make herself comfortable, finally leaning against Mrs Hughes' chest.

Mrs Hughes couldn't let go of the breath she just took in. Not because she was constricted physically, but more because it felt as if all the emotions in her heart were caught up in her throat. The lovely weight of the girl upon her spell bound as before and a contented sigh, almost inaudible escaped her.

Sybil wondered about the sudden silence of the Housekeeper and turned to look up at her. She found Mrs Hughes smiling beautifully at her and she herself couldn't resist a smile.

"You are sure you are more of a witch than a fairy Mrs Hughes?" Sybil asked with a curious sparkle on her eyes. For the seven year old girl, the world of witches, fairies and goblins were a part of reality as much as the world around her.

"And why do you ask that my dear?" Mrs Hughes questioned, her lilting Scottish brogue suddenly becoming more pronounced.

"You are too pretty to be a witch," Sybil spoke her mind, this time without any fear. All witches she had heard of were old and ugly while most fairies were pretty. Mrs Hughes was quite old, she knew, but not old enough to be a witch like the witches in the stories that she had heard.

"Oh am I now? I didn't know," Mrs Hughes replied raising an eyebrow, "besides it's only in England that the fairies are all pretty."

"Really? Are there fairies who are not pretty?" Sybil asked, now in extreme curiosity.

"In Scotland there are fairies who are very scary," Mrs Hughes replied pulling on a very scary look and making her fingers to look like claws, eliciting a series a wonderful giggles from the young lady on her lap.

"Oh… Could you tell me about them? Please?" Sybil asked with pleading eyes and Mrs Hughes couldn't resist.

"Very well…" Mrs Hughes said and cleared her throat. Sybil rested her head again on Mrs Hughes' chest as Mrs Hughes positioned herself so she could keep on making her lists while telling Lady Sybil the stories.

And from the Housekeeper's sitting room, came floating in the air, the sound of a soft lilting voice opening doors to a kingdom of magic and mystery and a childish voice getting lost in the pictures that the soft Scottish voice wove.

**To be continued…**

**My sincere apologies if there are any grammatical or spelling errors in this chapter. The idea came into my mind in a flash and I had to write it down before I lost the inspiration entirely. Then I couldn't resist the urge to post it at soon as possible. Sorry! (*smiles apologetically*)**

**And thank you so much for all your reviews! It's so lovely to know what you think about this story and of course it's a real strength to go on with a story which I expected to finish off within around three chapters at first. Don't worry I can barely see the end I want yet so it'll go on for some more chapters (hopefully, if inspiration flows in readily as it does now). And thank you again!**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Mr Carson descended from the staircase that led downstairs. He had been in the library all morning with His Lordship discussing matters with the Estate Agent and Mr Murray, the solicitor. He had been surrounded by disagreements over land, farms and finances, that he felt so glad when it all ended. Usually he would stand still in the corner, enveloped in a world of his own. But the raised voices of the men had disturbed his train of thought often, bringing him i

back to earth and he couldn't help feeling a little annoyed. He reached the end of the stairs and the calm and quietness of the downstairs corridors, slightly disturbed by preparations for the upstairs luncheon filled him with much needed relief. He walked across the corridor unhurried, taking smaller strides than usual. When he reached Mrs Hughes' parlour he couldn't help but take a peer through the half open door, his curiosity roused by the strange sound coming from within. And with what he saw, a smile lit up on his face.

Lady Sybil had fallen asleep, curled up against Mrs Hughes. Her clenched fists tucked under her chin, her face against Mrs Hughes' chest. And Mrs Hughes was softly singing what seemed to be a lullaby in what sounded like Gaelic. The waves of her soft voice filled her parlour as it walked across the language that was quite unfamiliar to Mr Carson. Of course he had heard Gaelic being spoken, in the theatres and the occasional conversation of scattered Scotsmen and Scotswomen. He'd heard the new Doctor Clarkson mutter to himself in Gaelic. But never his Mrs Hughes speaking it, or much better, singing it. Wait! _His Mrs Hughes_? Of course she was _his Mrs Hughes_! There were slight slips of her tongue where she muttered to herself in Gaelic too and often induced by Miss O'Brien annoying her in some way. A smile slipped on to his face at the thought of the two fiery Celts in the middle of their fiercest battles. But these mutterings were rare and she often stopped them immediately once they crossed her notice. But this! Mr Carson could never have predicted the tenderness that would rush to his heart during this situation.

She gently stroked Sybil's dark head of hair and he couldn't help but notice the small degree of similarity between their looks. An unexpected rush of tears entered his eyes but he managed to fight them. It would look bad enough if anybody saw, the butler staring at the Housekeeper's parlour but it would be much worse if he was seen crying. Elsie's sweet voice and care for Lady Sybil made him long for something he could never have. A home of his own. To come back from work to the waiting arms of his wife, his Elsie, and to the excited smiles of their children. He searched his brains for an apt adjective to describe it to himself but settled on lovely not having found anything better. It would not do to dwell on regrets, he thought and quickly banished those thoughts from his mind and watched the indescribably beautiful scene ahead of him. Listening to Elsie's voice curling around the edges of the Gaelic words.

Elsie couldn't even describe her feelings in her mind. This was too beautiful. She knew she didn't deserve this. She didn't even care for her sister by herself. Well there was reason and that being giving Becky a better life than what could give her caring for her by herself but it still made her feel guilty and lingered on her conscience making her want to doubt herself. Elsie knew that this wasn't the life fate had decided upon her and it had been long since she accepted it. But this sweet lassie had stretched the boundaries of her heart to extents she never let them stretch. It pained her, thinking of what she could have had. Of course it did, she was not as heartless as everyone imagined her to be. She just didn't let her emotions show. She didn't wear her heart on her sleeve. It wouldn't do to a Housekeeper to look emotional. But she was human and she often got attached to her charges like sweet, dear Anna and William and now Lady Sybil.

She kept her pen carefully beside the notebook and wrapped that arm around the little girl's shoulders. She gently leaned down so as not to disturb the sleeping girl and placed a gentle kiss to the little girl's head. A smile lit up on her face as the sleeping girl cuddled even more close to her. Outside the door Mr Carson took in a shaky breath as unexpected tears welled in his eyes.

"One day you will grow up into a wonderful Lady my dear. A kind, generous, loving, wonderful Lady, mo ghràidh," she whispered as softly as she could to the sleeping girl who slept oblivious of the Housekeeper's words.

"Just like the wonderful woman holding you right now," Mr Carson thought as he watched Mrs Hughes place another kiss on to Sybil's head.

**To be continued…**

**Thank you so much for all your reviews again. Time doesn't permit me to thank you all personally and I'm so sorry about it. Dangling university and keep creativity alive is tough. But your reviews encourage me and make me want to keep on writing and I'm so grateful to you all because writing this story makes me so happy. There's still way more to come, hopefully! I'm so sorry for taking so long to publish this chapter. Some unexpected assignments came my way and I promise I'll try to publish the next chapter as soon as possible! In fact I can't wait to write the next! And thank you all again.**

**p.s. mo ghràid is Scottish Gaelic for my darling**

**I had a couple of Scottish Gaelic lullabies in mind when I was writing this but the main one was Ba Mo Leanabh. I wanted to include it in the story but I couldn't find the proper lyrics. It's beautiful and available on YouTube so check it out if you like. **

**See you soon with a new chapter. **


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Something similar to a sharp breath sounded outside and Mrs Hughes quickly shot her head up and glanced at the door. A shadow or rather a blur of black and white flashed past and disappeared out of her view. Had it not been for the little girl asleep on her lap, she would have hurried to her feet and checked who it was. She smiled. The colours she saw were enough for her to make a guess as to who was looking through her door and she desperately hoped her guess was right.

For a moment her mind whirled. Would he think her silly? Would he think her not proper for letting one of the young Ladies spend time with her? Would he disapprove? Would he rebuke her? Charles Carson was a kind man beneath all that starched and rigid exterior and she knew it but sometimes he got really flustered about propriety which as important to him as his own blood and breath. He didn't mean to most often, but nevertheless ended up hurting her, pushing her away that it broke her heart. A couple of times she even considered leaving but the thought of not seeing him every day and not sharing simple moments with him would have devastated her even more. Instead she patiently took it all in and moved on.

She had often wondered what it would have been if she had met him in an entirely different life. She would have made a life with him, a family. But she knew he wouldn't echo her sentiments about the matter and the ever daring Elsie Hughes didn't dare to confess her feelings or take a step forward in fear of losing the friendship and whatever little it had given them. To her even that was so precious.

She looked at the young girl blissfully asleep against her and wondered about the usual dream that she imagined. Blue eyed children with black hair. It was painful, yes. But some things are just meant to be. She remembered her childhood. Not exactly what she would call happy but it was free. Her mother was kind but a life as a farmer's wife, the loss of several children before they even took in their first breath, a daughter that the whole village believed to be cursed had hardened her. And she was not the emotional type. Not the type for hugs and kisses and listening to children talk of their fears. And maybe that was what made Elsie into who she was. Her position required her to put on a steel façade but nevertheless she couldn't stop the little streams of care and kindness that flowed through cracks in the steel.

Maybe she was selfish in imagining her own bubble of happiness with Charles in another life, she thought. For in this life she cared for several "children" who needed her more. Children from broken and unhappy families pushed young into the sombre life of service to feed several hungry bellies left behind in a cold home. Unforgiving and terrible pasts. Maybe they needed her more, to stay strong, to survive, to know that this too was a new kind of home. This was what she always consoled herself with.

A voice calling "Sybil" very loudly from further up the corridor woke her from her reverie, feeling quite surprised. It woke up Sybil too and she lazily stirred against Mrs Hughes struggling to open her eyes. With a head held high, hands crossed regally in front of her, Lady Mary appeared on the Housekeeper's doorway. Mrs Hughes couldn't stand up with the little girl on her lap, still in the process of waking up.

"How can I help you Milady?" Mrs Hughes asked with a smile but Mary's serious expression didn't change making Mrs Hughes think that Lady Mary was putting up too much airs on for such a young age.

"I've come to fetch Sybil, Mrs Hughes," Lady Mary stated in her no nonsense tone, recently adopted.

"She's almost awake now," Mrs Hughes replied down at the little girl who was brushing the back of her hands on her eyes and looking around intently, her face darkening at the sight of Mary, now standing only a few steps away from her. She slid down from Mrs Hughes' lap and looked up at the kind Housekeeper who couldn't resist smiling.

"Thank you Mrs Hughes for the stories. They were lovely," she whispered in a sleepy haze and took a few uncertain steps towards her sister. She turned back as if she had forgotten something and hurriedly reached up and placed a kiss on the Housekeeper's cheek. Mrs Hughes noticed the scowl on Mary's face, clearly disapproving. Mary grabbed Sybil's hand and almost dragged her out of the Housekeeper's sitting room, with the younger reluctant to leave the place that opened her world to so much magic and simple beauties.

Mrs Hughes watched the pair of them leave sadly. Of course she knew that Lady Sybil would have been needed upstairs but over the days she had become so attached to the spirited, young girl that she missed her so much when she was gone. Mrs Hughes also suspected this to be an act on the whim and fancy of Lady Mary who was becoming haughty by the day, mistaking the fact that being a Lady was all about putting on airs and being haughty. She thought of the kind Lady Grantham. Of course she was a foreigner so she is meant to be different and the Dowager Countess was no different from Lady Mary at times probably the source behind the young girl's behaviour, but even she had a certain sense of fairness and righteousness, despite her age old and inflexible attitudes, that Mrs Hughes had grown to respect.

She sighed and turned to her paperwork again. She very much hoped that Lady Sybil did not change with time and would always remain the same sweet, kind and enthusiastic girl. But it was a very different life cut out for them. A life which was more of a pretence that Elsie never really understood. A life that she feared would drain the spirit of the young girl she had grown to love.

**To be continued…**

**Thank you all for your reviews! (also to the guest reviewers) your kind words help me keep this story going. Hope you like how this story is unravelling and stay tuned for more. I'll try to update as soon as possible. Love you all!**


	13. Chapter 13

1Chapter 13

Young Lady Mary Crawley was going to have a field day with Sybil's constant visits downstairs. Of course even she made secret visits to see Carson and earn a few sweets that she was not normally allowed. But she would _never_ fall below her station! Cuddling on the Housekeeper's lap! Besides Carson always treated her like the Lady she was! Mary couldn't entirely place whether her fury about Sybil's hideout was because of her parents' love towards "sweet" Sybil that she envied, because the grave impropriety of spending too much time closely with a "servant", because of Carson's fondness for Mary always being overshadowed by Mrs Hughes or maybe because… Mary brushed the last possibility out of her mind. No! Not because of that! But it came creeping into her like a nightmare conquering her land of sleep. Maybe because she craved the kind of love that Sybil got from Mrs Hughes.

She climbed the flight of stairs that led from downstairs to the main staircase dragging an almost tearful Sybil behind her and into the library where her parents were waiting with Edith. Once she neared the library, she slowed down her pace, raised her head and walked gracefully with the little girl shuffling behind her, disappointed, annoyed, sad and a whole bundle of other emotions bursting inside her little heart.

"Ah there you are Mary, we were wondering what took you so long," Lord Grantham smiled at her two daughters amused by the two contrasting girls.

"_She _was fast asleep!" Mary replied putting on as much emphasis as she could on the first word.

"Sybil dear, you still look very sleepy," Lady Grantham said with a very adorable smile playing on her lips and no sooner had she finished her sentence, Sybil let out an enormous yawn without even bothering to cover her mouth. Robert couldn't help but laugh at the adorable young girl and Cora joined in. But Mary scowled. _How disgraceful!_

"Come here my darlings," Cora stretched her arms and both girls walked into their mothers embrace and Edith joined them.

Mary didn't give up on her initial idea as she spoke out loud and clear in an accusatory tone, "Sybil was in the Housekeeper's parlour! Asleep on _her lap_!"

"You haven't been bothering Mrs Hughes have you?" Cora asked taking Sybil's face in her hands.

"No Mama. Mrs Hughes told me stories," Sybil replied now fully awake with exciting memories of the amazing stories about Highland fairies by the lovely Scottish Housekeeper.

"But Mama! She's spending too much downstairs! And with a servant nonetheless!" Mary protested.

"Mary, Mrs Hughes is a respected member of the household," Cora replied in quite angrily, cautiously looking over her shoulder at the footman who was standing still as a stone.

"But it is below us to act like that. It's not proper Mama! Mrs Hughes is still a _servant_!" Mary persisted. But she couldn't have had worse timing for Carson walked through the door of the library carrying a tea tray only to hear Mary's last sentence and the fine emphasis that she placed on Mrs Hughes' position. He stopped in his tracks, stunned, with tea tray in hand. Cora almost forgot the reprimanding she was about to give Mary when she saw Carson's reactions. Robert's eyes widened, but he couldn't find any words. Both Cora and Robert knew that Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes were great friends and people who had given most of their life to Downton. They were efficient, diligent and above all loyal.

After what seemed like a minute's silence, Carson walked across the library to place the tea tray on the table and started preparing the tea. It was not his place to voice his opinion but Lady Mary's words hurt him to the core. He wondered how someone so young, someone whom he cared for so much could be so mean and hurtful. Especially towards another person whom he cared for with all his heart.

Cora finally regained her senses and hissed at Mary, "Mrs Hughes as I mentioned before is a very respectable member of the household and I would remind you that without her this house would fall into utter chaos…"

But Cora couldn't complete for Mary protested, "But that is her _job_!" Cora was furious by this time and Robert was utterly surprised by his daughter's attitude.

"Mary, remember that she had done her _job_ exceptionally well and with such loyalty that you can never understand. One day when you are old enough you'll understand what she means to this house. And besides, you would learn to treat all people with dignity despite their position. It is because of them that this house runs. And if Mrs Hughes didn't work as loyally as she did, it won't be long before this place turns to a ruin."

Mary's fire had died down a bit by then but Cora could see a few more sparks. Cora stopped her speech to accept a cup of tea that Carson offered, his face betraying no emotion but in his eyes were admiration for his employers. Cora looked at him and saw the man he pretended to be, no words, no emotions. But she read his eyes. She continued as Carson proceeded to hand over a cup to Robert.

"And Mary I would not tolerate your attitude. One day you would become the lady of a house. You'll have to run a house. Remember, treat everyone who works for you with dignity and honour. Respect them. Once you get to the core, they are not very different to us," Cora finished on a kinder tone and Mary nodded slowly. She still didn't like Sybil's behaviour very much but her mother's speech softened her and made her ashamed of the way she pointed Mrs Hughes out.

Almost an hour passed, with Sybil's retelling stories that Mrs Hughes had told her, Mary excitedly talking about her new dress and Edith filling in about the latest books she's read and time came for Nanny to take them back up. Mary would soon leave the nursery but Cora thought it would be best that she spent more time with her sisters.

Robert looked up at Carson and said, "That would be all Carson. Thank you." Carson nodded and replied, "Very well Milord." He walked out of the library after whispering something to the footmen and Robert called again, "And Carson we won't be needing Richard any longer." Carson gestured to the footman who swiftly walked out behind the Butler.

When both of them had departed Robert heaved a huge sigh and Cora giggled at Robert's amusing expression.

"I couldn't really look him in the eye after Mary's outburst," Robert said and Cora expression became serious back again.

"I don't what she's taken in. But I'd wager it's all your mother's talk about propriety," she looked at Robert with an accusatory look all about her face.

"Don't get at me for that," Robert retaliated utterly helpless, "but sometimes I do worry about Sybil spending time downstairs."

"Why?" Cora asked unable decipher the point that Robert was trying to make.

"I mean, it's not ordinary for her place in the world," he struggled to explain.

"Now you are sounding like Mary and your mother," Cora replied, disappointed. "Might I remind you of the many stories you've told about the times you've spent downstairs and how friendly you were with the cook?"

"I suppose you are right. I am being a hypocrite. But I'm afraid that it wouldn't help her to get too attached to it," Robert said.

"She spends most of that time with Mrs Hughes and I need not tell you how responsible she is. Besides I saw them one day and… Sybil… Sybil was so happy. I was so afraid when she turned all quiet all of a sudden and that seems to be passing and she seems so happy and alive again. I must say Mrs Hughes is quite a story teller," Cora replied now laughing.

"As are most Scots. Natural story tellers," Robert added smiling, infected by his wife's laughter.

"But more importantly Robert, it will let her to know the world as it is. Not everything in life comes on silver trays. It would do well for her to know that. To let her know that there is a life beyond elegant dinners and house parties and the reality of how all that elegance comes alive," Cora said and smiled.

Robert couldn't help but smile at his wise and kind wife. He nodded. Of course she was right as always, seeing things in a deeper light than he ever could. He walked towards her and gently kissed her on the lips and tried to imagine a day when his three daughters would grow up to be beautiful, kind and wise mother. The day he would be a happy man more than words could ever say.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**Quite a long chapter! I'm not very sure if I pulled it altogether very well but it is for you to judge. Thank you again for all your kind reviews. They make me so happy and encourage me to keep this story going. And please don't hesitate to let me know your ideas in the reviews. And I apologize if there are any spelling or grammatical errors. I ran through the text quickly but time doesn't permit me to make a thorough inspection of it. I look forward to read your reviews. And a huge thank you to all of you lovely readers. Hope to meet you soon with the next chapter!**


	14. Chapter 14

**I cannot even begin to say how sorry I am for taking this long to update. But studies and university became quite a handful and I couldn't help but postpone the updating week by week. But I'm back and hoping to post as often as I am able to. Thank you all for bearing my absence. **

Chapter 14

Robert looked up from his book at Cora who was lost in her needle work. He watched her delicate hands gliding gracefully over the silk. He didn't want to disturb her beautiful work but his thoughts were eating away at his mind and he couldn't bear to keep them in any longer.

"Cora?" he called out softly and she looked at him with a questioning look. He never really disturbed her needlework unless it was something extremely urgent.

"I was wondering…" he began after making sure that she was focusing on what he had to say, but he suddenly lost the strength to continue and she urged him on gently with a slight nod of her head and an enthusiastic smile.

"That is… I am quite disturbed that I didn't say anything when Mary… you know… went a bit overboard, so to say," Robert finally voiced out but Cora couldn't quite get his point so she kept on watching him, waiting for an elaboration.

"I mean, Carson, I should have said something. Carson and Mrs Hughes are great friends and it must have hurt him to hear Mary say such things about Mrs Hughes. Of course my dear you would have noticed how much he cares for her. I felt I owed that to Carson. To say something to show that I didn't share Mary's opinion at all and I fear that my silence might have proved otherwise," Robert finished heaving a sigh.

"Well, that is not the first time you've been lost for words. Perhaps it's your mother's abundance of them that have placed you at a minor disadvantage in that aspect," Cora couldn't help but giggle.

"Cora I'm serious!"

"Well, I think Carson knows what is in your heart. You've been employer and employee for years and I might even dare to call you great friends," Cora replied raising an eyebrow.

"You may say that. He did cover up a lot of the scrapes I got into from Mama, when I was young. I would have been skinned alive had she known. But I'm sure if he knows you called him my friend he'll be shocked about the impropriety of all of it," Robert said with a chuckle.

"There you are! He knows who you are at the bottom of your heart. And I know he respects you for it," Cora smiled gently, lighting up a smile on Robert's face.

"Have I ever told you what a wise woman you are my darling?" he asked looking at her adoringly.

"I believe you have but one never gets tired of hearing it," Cora replied with a mischievous smile.

"Wise and cheeky indeed!" Robert laughed.

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Upstairs dinner was finally over and Charles Carson couldn't have been more grateful that the Dowager Countess did not stir up any arguments at the dining table and left straight after dinner back to the Dower House. His feelings were a hurricane today and he really couldn't stand one of those legendary arguments at the Crawley family dinner table. Downstairs dinner was all well except for Mr Watson, His Lordship's valet stirring up conversation about the current politics and not letting him escape the enthusiastic political views. He could barely catch beyond a word or two with Mrs Hughes and once it was all thankfully over some urgent paper work called for him so he decided that tonight he'd just have to catch up with her over a glass of wine very late at night.

But the cyclone of emotions inside him was too much to bear in her presence. He was deeply wounded by Lady Mary's words. He assumed she never actually meant it but nevertheless it hurt him. Mrs Hughes worked so hard for everyone and by that he meant _everyone_. And she was the kindest person he's ever known and he couldn't help but wonder why Lady Mary considered her just as a _servant_. But after all she's just a child and children didn't always think twice about what they said or did.

But her words stirred something inside. His shock on hearing Mrs Hughes referred to so crudely, the sudden urge to defend her, made him realise something. He had always like Mrs Hughes. He even dared to think that he loved her. _Of course he loved her! How could he pretend otherwise? But isn't that exactly what he did for the sake of both their positions in life and also for the fear of losing her friendship?_

Strong feelings had been stirred inside him and he was in quite a quandary. He wanted to see her, talk to her, at least about simple matters in the household and be at peace with her. To watch the light of the lamp flicker across her face and watch the soft shadows play on her face and darken her auburn hair. Watch her blue eyes twinkle in the yellow light as she drew her bottom lip between her teeth when she was trying to stop a giggle. To hear her melodic lilt float across the night air in her sitting room. And sitting with _her_ with a glass of wine or a cup of tea in her sitting room, which had a much more relaxed appearance than his pantry and filled with little intricacies that were part of herself, made him feel at home. At home with her.

But tonight je was afraid of his feelings. He felt over protective of her. To make her happy. To keep her away from the evil of the world. And if he was daring enough to think so, to make her his. He might be butler, specially trained to hold back emotions and never show them, added to which his personal experience of the one serious previous romance. But he was a human above all and when it came to the woman whom he loved with all of his heart, he wasn't sure whether he would be able to confine his emotions to the dark chambers of his mind and his heart. Specially following today's events which had a lasting effect on him. He ached to speak true his heart to her and tonight it was what he feared that he might involuntarily do, if he was not careful.

But love is not written for some people. And he knew it for he knew that with their place in the world it would be beyond him to try. Though feelings ran like a river for her, eroding the depths of his heart, the life he chose made sure that that river never ran free. Its light green waters possibly never able to reach out to her blue sea. Fate wasn't very kind and the last time he was tempted to change it, he ended up a penniless, broken young man walking the streets of a city he didn't know well with the harsh rains of an English summer soaking him to the bone. And like that day, today too he was lost, but in a much different way.

And he looked ahead watching the wall of his pantry where a bookshelf stood but seeing nothing at all and he rose from his chair with a sigh.

**To be continued…**

**Thank you so much for your reviews. Though time doesn't permit me to thank each and every one of you personally I would like to say that I am grateful for all of you for encouraging me. And I'm so sorry for taking too long to update. I'll try to make sure it doesn't happen again. Thank you! See you in a new chapter!**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Holding the decanter half filled with wine with one hand and two glasses in the other, Mr Carson knocked on the door of Mrs Hughes' sitting room which was half open and entered, pushing the door fully open with his shoulder. She was seated in her chair mending one of her dresses and on seeing him a glorious smile that entered right into his heart appeared on her face. How he could get lost in that smile? In those eyes? He placed the decanter carefully on the table at the side and then glasses followed. She laid her dress carefully on her desk and walk toward him with her hands crossed in front of her, her chatelaine jingling slowly. He smiled at her, when he saw her watching him intently as he carefully poured the wine into the glasses. Having finished, he looked up at her, as she nodded and took a seat. And he followed at the opposite end of the table.

"You are in a very thoughtful mood today Mr Carson," Mrs Hughes said as she observed the butler.

"Me?" Charles asked flustered, trying to gain time for an answer that would seem appropriate. He didn't think he had the confidence to voice out the thoughts that bothered him earlier. Elsie raised an eyebrow in wonder. She knew that something was going on inside Mr Carson but even to her sharp mind, it was difficult to deduce.

"Well, nothing out of the ordinary," he replied trying to look ordinary but failing to a significant extent in the eyes of the Housekeeper.

"Hmm," Mrs Hughes let the question for now, hoping to catch the butler later on.

"And you seem to be in a very good mood Mrs Hughes," Mr Carson said as he tried to throw Mrs Hughes' line of questioning back at her.

"Nothing out of the ordinary Mr Carson," she replied biting back a giggle by drawing her bottom lip between her teeth.

"That is not a very clever trick Mrs Hughes," Mr Carson countered faking a mock serious tone.

"Oh it is when you are concerned Mr Carson," she retaliated and drew her bottom lip back to its cossetted position between her teeth. The evidence that she trying to stop a giggle, plainly visible.

"I didn't know that your job description mentioned that you could tease the butler to your heart's content," he said continuing his serious tone. But in a fraction of a second he realised that his earlier sentence might not sound very appropriate. Highly improper, in his standards.

"I'm sorry Mrs Hughes. I didn't intend for the words to come out that way. I'm sorry if you were offended," he said as she looked sheepishly at his hands on his lap. A gentle smile crossed Mrs Hughes' face. The adorable man!

"I can assure you Mr Carson that the very last thing I am at this moment is offended," she replied in a much softer voice and Mr Carson looked up to meet her tender gaze. She watched the wounded expression on his face slowly turn into a shy smile.

Mr Carson couldn't help but think how wonderful she was during these tender moments but knowing how such thoughts might disturb their equilibrium, he reluctantly switched the subject.

Clearing his throat he said, "Today it's some very fine Merlot, Mrs Hughes. I do believe you will like this very much." And he handed her a glass.

"Thank you Mr Carson," she replied and took the glass from his hand careful not to let their fingers brush. It was one of the things that unsettled her immensely, yet in a completely pleasant way.

"I assume Lady Sybil came to see you again," he mentioned. So tempted to bring up the memories that enchanted him.

"Aye she did," Mrs Hughes replied softly and again that divine smile of hers, reserved such moments lit up on her face.

"She must have enjoyed herself."

"Oh we both did. But I think when you saw us most of the fun was over," Mrs Hughes replied rather cheekily. She knew that it would mortify the butler to know that his eavesdropping was noticed.

"I… uhm… I didn't mean to pry or intrude… I just happened to be passing…" Mr Crason struggled to explain, very flustered.

"Oh I don't mind Mr Carson. Though I doubt others would. You'd have been the starting point to a long chain of rumours," Mrs Hughes tried to relieve the very uncomfortable Butler, by laughing lightly.

"Nevertheless Mrs Hughes I certainly see no right for me to intrude upon your privacy in that manner."

"How many times should I say that it is alright Mr Carson?" Mrs Hughes countered, now pulling on a very stern voice in full Housekeeper mood.

"Very well," Mr Carson gave in in a soft voice.

"But I've never really heard you speak Gaelic before," he began again, helplessly drawn to the enchanting scene from earlier in the day.

"I do know the language Mr Carson, obviously. But yes, now I don't speak it anymore," Mrs Hughes replied with a hint of nostalgia, a cloudy expression in her eyes. But it was only for a moment for again she became her usual self, but this time with some difficulty. "But I doubt that a _very proper and respectable Englishman _such as yourself would care for a _language of the barbarians, _instead finding it appalling. Given the Act and all," Mrs Hughes replied again, adding a note of sarcasm to her voice. 

"Don't say that Mrs Hughes. It's only a general attitude," Mr Carson replied cautiously realising that he might be heading on a dangerous road. He knew that the Scottish temper and their patriotism can be a deadly combination.

"General attitude? Would you say the same if you were beaten at school for speaking English, _your mother tongue_?" Mrs Hughes asked, the fire now clearly glowing in her eyes.

"Mrs Hughes it might be a general attitude. But I do not endorse it," Mr Carson replied realising that the fire in her earlier question might be partly his fault for he completely forgot to mention his standing in the matter.

"I know that it is for my sake Mr Carson," she replied now softly, "I doubt you'd hold the same ground if for instance Miss O'Brien was concerned." At her words Mr Carson cast his eyes downwards realising that there might be some truth in her words.

He was a very patriotic Englishman, quite set in his ways and he guessed that his adoration for the language was mostly because of her than its cultural or historical value. He realised that what he loved was not exactly the language but the way she spoke it. The way her voice glided across the sounds of a language that sounded so distant to him. A language that sounded magical to him, not because of its roots in the Highlands of Scotland engulfed in magic and mystery, but because of her, only her. As she cleverly pointed out, if it had been for Miss O'Brien he might have been mortified. He might have feared what His Lordship or Her Ladyship and even the Dowager would think lest they heard it spoken in their presence. He could imagine what cutting remarks he would have made about it.

She watched his eyes drawn downwards. His blind adoration for a language he did not care for, only for her sake was not lost on her. She did feel a bit offended at times regarding his very English ways and lack of concern for her position. But she couldn't blame him. She was the foreigner. The black sheep. The minority. But now, she was slightly surprised at his standing. Instead of feeling offended, she fell even more in love with him. At that moment she didn't care if he reciprocated her feelings, all what mattered is that she loved him. But she took the liberty of wondering, whether he did feel the same. And she drowned in an ocean of love, one from which she knew that she could never recover.

**To be continued…**

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**Notes: With the passing of the Education (Scotland Act) 1872 priority was given for English education in Scotland and the teaching of Gaelic was excluded. This resulted in children at school being severely punished if they spoke Scottish Gaelic. This implied ban was lifted in 1918 but its effects last to this day, being one of the main reasons for the rapid decline in the use and number of speakers of the Scots Gaelic language.**

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**A slightly long chapter to compensate for my long absence : ) Thank you so much for all your reviews. You are all so lovely! I'm so sorry that time doesn't permit me to thank you all personally. Hope you are enjoying the story so far. See you soon with a new chapter. **

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	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

A moment of silence settled over them as they drank their wine extremely slowly than usual. Both looking ahead. Not daring to speak. After what seemed like ages, Mr Carson cleared his throat. Mrs Hughes looked up at him startled with wide eyes.

Still without looking at her he asked softly, "Did you have to undergo that too?"

"Undergo what?" Mrs Hughes asked completely oblivious as to the subject of his question.

"Were you… were you punished too? For speaking Gaelic?" he asked again and faced her. His eyes meeting hers. Her ace darkened and she looked downwards.

"Yes," she replied in a strong voice. He was surprised for he expected that she would have sounded hurt about his question, and was mentally kicking himself for asking, but the tone of her reply startled her. She felt his eyes on her and she knew her tone would have surprised. Elsie Hughes had gone through a lot in her life but she hated pity. She did feel weak when unwelcome memories invaded her mind, but she was not the type of woman to crumble at the thought of something that happened in her childhood, something much more simple than most of the other things she had gone through.

"It was when… I was …" she began but he cut her off.

"I'm sorry Mrs Hughes. I… I shouldn't have brought it out," Mr Carson stopped her, now furious with himself for asking her so many uncomfortable questions tonight.

"Now that it's come up I'll just tell it and get over it Mr Carson," she said, still not looking at her. Taking his silence as an answer in the affirmative, she began again.

"I was around eight or nine at the village school. It was a new teacher. He was quite… strict and had his own ways. Anytime we spoke in Gaelic, he brought us in front of the classroom and caned us. His surname was Brown so one couldn't guess where he was from exactly. He spoke in a very English accent but I do remember clearly that there were traces of a Scottish accent that he hid well. One day a boy hit me on the head with a pebble in class and I was furious. I turned around and scolded him, in Gaelic. We spoke both Scots and Gaelic at home so it was normal. Mr Brown heard me, called me in front and caned me. My hand was all red and bleeding, then it turned to purple and I daresay it wasn't a pretty sight. It was the first of many," she finished with a sigh.

Mr Carson looked at her with so much tenderness in his eyes. This was the very first time that she had told him something so personal in her life. Regardless of the fact that it was just an incident at school, it seemed to him that it had struck deep in her heart, wounded her. He thought of how little he knew of the woman behind the Housekeeper. He was honoured that she had confided in him. But he couldn't help but wonder about who she really was, and what her life was before she embraced this never ending cycle of life in service. She should certainly have had a "life" before this. They all did. And God knows "he did", a much colourful one, now turned distasteful to him. And all he could do was to hope that he would be lucky to know that little girl she once was, the "woman" she now is.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that Mrs Hughes," he said trying to make his voice a whisper but failing epically. His booming voice could never be softened into a regular whisper.

"That's alright Mr Carson. It was almost a lifetime ago," she replied with a light laugh but the fact that that laugh was so weak and tainted with pain was not lost to him though her zealous attempt to sound perfectly normal. A moments silence again as they both drained their glasses.

Mrs Hughes was the one to break the silence. "Perhaps I should go up now Mr Carson, it's rather late and I'm afraid I have to make an early start tomorrow."

"Of course," he replied and stood up watching the way she stood up from her chair and smoothed her hands on the front of her skirts. She took the candle on the table with her and put out the one at her desk. He walked out of the door and she followed him, then locked the door. He waited standing a few feet away watching her lock up, using a key out of the many that hung from her waist. Having finished it, she looked up at him and smiled.

"Good night Mr Carson."

"Good night Mrs Hughes."

He watched her turn her back to him and walk away towards the staircase that led up to their quarters. Her head held high. The gentle swaying on her hips yet the walk strong and confident. The jangle of her keys at her strong steps. He watched her reach the bottom of the staircase and make her way up. The light slowly disappearing and her form engulfed by the darkness of the night that lurked the hallways of a house in its own deep slumber, just as those within. All except two. Just for now. And maybe for some time more into the small hours of the morning. Both daring to dream of forbidden dreams, forbidden only in the world they lived in. This little world within a boundless world of lands and seas.

He stood alone in the corridor for some time, sighed and made his own way up into the darkness with a weak yellow light of a candle in hand. Daring to dream of perhaps another lifetime when the staircase no longer parted them into two different directions. Only forward into one. Together. A dream, in the exact sense of the word. The kind, he thought, that one sees in deep slumber in the middle of the night and knows perfectly well that would never make it into reality come the harsh light of the morning and day.

**To be continued…**

**Thank you again for your kind reviews! They are a marvellous encouragement. And I'm really enjoying writing this. I'm glad that I've been able to update the story regularly during the last few days and I really, really hope that I would be able to keep this up. Please let me know what you think of the chapter in the reviews. I'm ever so grateful for your reviews. See you soon with a new chapter. **


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

_A few weeks later…_

_Very late at night_

"Mrs Patmore I see nothing complicated in this list of ingredients. Surely you can do something about it. Her Ladyship was quite insistent on this, given that it's a favourite of Lord Branksome's," Mrs Hughes tried her best to persuade Mrs Patmore to make a specific cake that was requested by Her Ladyship. She did not understand why the cook was protesting when the notice about the specifications of the menu for the small dinner party the Family were hosting was given weeks earlier.

"I daresay there won't be a wine to match _this _cake," Mrs Patmore replied, never the one to give up, especially when it came to disagreeing with the housekeeper.

"That, Mrs Patmore is Mr Carson's concern," Mrs Hughes replied in a sharper tone. The fact that she was nearing her legendary temper clearly evident.

"Now if I had the store cupboard to meself then I could have done _something _about it," the cook continued now breaking her gaze with the housekeeper and staring ahead.

"Don't ye get there Mrs Patmore. That'll be over my grave. At least not while I'm housekeeper!" Mrs Hughes was now holding on to her patience by a thread, her brogue more pronounced

"Ye will go ahead with this Mrs Patmore. I had Her Ladyship to revise the menu three times. _Three times_! And all because ye said, ye cannae do this, ye cannae do that. Ye dinnae think the courses matched. But I'm telling ye, this is final and this is the menu ye'll cook in a week's time! And I wouldnae hear one more word of yer complains," Mrs Hughes burst out as the final ounce of patience slipped out if her grasp, her brogue much pronounced, her face fixed into the steely "Hughes glare" (as the maids called it).

The Cook stepped out of the Housekeeper's sitting room with a loud huff muttering loudly, "Let's see about it _Mary Queen of Scots_."

"I heard that," Mrs Hughes called out to the leaving Cook, still fuming. She heard the Cook's heels click till they reached the stairs and then die away. She was the last soldier standing, everyone else having gone to bed hours before. Several events had to be planned, ranging from many dinner parties, a large house party and two hunts, all to be held within the course of a month. And to add to all of it, the Dowager too was having her own series of events, possibly to beat an old rival. And the weight of all of it was falling on Elsie's shoulder's resulting in several sleepless nights.

It was all too much and she was feeling it in her body now. She was becoming weaker after every night that she's stayed await to meticulously plan the functions, that doesn't seem to end. She got up from her desk and sat herself down on the settee. After a moment's thought she removed her shoes, her feet aching after standing for most of the day. She would never do this, lest anyone would see but tonight it was only her and she was reminded of it by the serene yet haunting silence that had engulfed the corridors. She leant her head back on the settee but once again reached down to remove her stockings, to feel more comfortable. When her tired feet touched the cold stone floors of the night, see sighed. The cold seeming to dissipate the tiredness in her feet a little. A chill ran up her spine but she didn't care, closing her eyes as she leaned back on the settee again.

A rustling sound echoing not very far away, brought Mrs Hughes back to earth. She sat up straight and listened. The corridor must be dark except for the tiny candle outside her room and the last time she checked it was almost over. Footsteps. Mrs Hughes was now fully alert. They didn't sound like the sure steps of someone coming to grab a glass of water or something else in the night. There was something so uncertain about them. Pausing moving and then moving. Mrs Hughes was never a woman who was afraid, of darkness, myths or people. But she couldn't stop the instinctive reaction of her rapidly beating heart. Quietly she padded across the room in her bare feet and poked her head out of the open door that one angry Cook had not bothered to close.

Through the darkness she saw a flash of white which gave her an involuntary start but within seconds she realised what, or rather who it was. With a furrowed brow and a slight smile. A totally paradoxical response to the surprising sight ahead of her.

**To be continued…**

**Thank you so much for the reviews. They are quite like my life blood when it comes to this story and I'm ever so grateful for your responses, even though my tight schedule doesn't allow me the time to thank all of you personally. And also thank you to the guest reviewers! I'm not very sure about the accuracy of my attempt to write what a Scottish brogue sounds like. I hope it's convincing if not accurate : ) I watched season 1 quite recently and in one episode (episode 4 if I remember correctly) Anna informs Mrs Hughes, who is speaking with Mr Carson, that Mrs Patmore is throwing up a riot about the store cupboard key and in the background Mrs Patmore can be heard referring to Mrs Hughes as Mary Queen of Scots and I had written the beginning of this chapter and I couldn't say how delighted I felt to get that tiny detail right. I'm not one for cliff hangers but I had to make a slight cliff hanger to spice things up once in a while. And no it's not an angsty cliff hanger. See you soon in the next chapter. I promise to post as soon as possible. **


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Mrs Hughes looked at the tiny figure with the long nightgown, clutching a pillow to the chest and walking uncertainly towards. She was surprised and worried about this sudden appearance.

"Lady Sybil what _on earth_ are you doing here in here at this ungodly hour?" Mrs Hughes asked, her voice a bit stern.

"Mrs Hughes…" Sybil began but a sob broke out and she stood in the middle of the corridor several steps away from Mrs Hughes, frozen on the spot, crying loudly and clutching her pillow tightly.

Mrs Hughes slowly walked across to where the young girl stood and gently placed her hands on the little girl's shoulders but Sybil started crying even more, trembling, and the sobs wracking her entire small body. The Housekeeper looked at the little girl, now with pity. She remembered that she too was once a little girl, a fact she's almost forgotten. She slowly dropped on to her knees, held the little girl by her arms and looked gently at the teary eyed girl with kindness flowing ought of the deep blue of her eyes. Sybil looked at the kind woman whose eyes pierced her own, resulting only in another body wracking sob.

Mrs Hughes drew Sybil closer and the little girl buried her face in the Housekeeper's neck and cried. Her tears wetting the unforgiving black material of the Housekeeper's dress. Mrs Hughes held the little girl tight to her and her own heart sank as the little girl's sobs vibrated against her body, slightly subdued by the pillow in between them. She whispered comforting words into the ears of the young girl as they stayed there in the corridor, the darkness around them, only the light from the open door illuminating them, contrasting the dark black on the Housekeeper and the white nightgown of the young girl.

As she felt the sobs subsiding Mrs Hughes gently broke herself from the embrace and held the little girl's head in one hand as she wiped the tears off from the other and smiled at her.

"There you are my dear. Why on earth were you down here at this time of the night? What if you had hurt yourself?" Mrs Hughes asked much more softly now, the sternness of her voice induced by her initial now long gone.

"I wanted to see you. I was so afraid," Sybil whispered with tears forming in her eyes again.

"I am here Milady. Now be a good girl and no more tears," Mrs Hughes said and Sybil smiled through her tears, then proceeding to dry her tears ferociously with her little hands.

"Now let's get a certain young, wandering little lady upstairs to the nursery," Mrs Hughes said taking the girl's little hand in hers.

Her words were barely out of her mouth when Sybil cried, "Noooo."

"What is it Milady? Nanny will be very surprised and possibly angry when she sees that you are not in bed."

"Nanny's ill. Only Sophie's there," Sybil whispered.

"Ah yes. I remember now," Mrs Hughes replied having realised that she had forgotten that sent the young maid up to stay at the nursery because Nanny was ill. She realised that she was forgetting a great many minute things because of the strain of the work placed in her hands.

"Mr Carson's already gone up to bed. And there's no one else down here now. What if I was gone too? What if you would have been all alone in the dark here? Hmm?" Mrs Hughes asked quite worried.

"But you were here…" Sybil whispered.

"Yes, I was. And I would probably have been for quite some time more," Mrs Hughes said rather absentmindedly.

"You weren't going to go to sleep? It's very late in the night now" Sybil asked, now she being the one with concern in her eyes.

"_That _is a question I should be asking a certain young lady," Mrs Hughes said playfully furrowing her brow.

"I had a nightmare Mrs Hughes. A very, very bad nightmare. I tried to wake Sophie but she wouldn't get up. I tried to go to Mama's room but I guessed it must be locked. I couldn't think of anywhere else. I guessed you might be downstairs. Or at least even Mr Carson," Sybil said, her voice becoming louder now.

Mrs Hughes got on to feet and led the little girl into her sitting room. She sat herself on the settee and guided the girl on to her lap. Her hands wrapped around the little girl and her pillow.

"You could tell me about it Milady, if you think it would help. And then let's get you back up to the nursery.

"Yes of course. That was why I came looking for you. I was terrified Mrs Hughes," Sybil began loudly but her voice died down into a whisper and tears formed in her eyes.

"You are safe now Milady. I'm right here. Always here," Mrs Hughes replied kindly as she tightened her grasp on the little girl who sat sideways on her lap, her little head now protectively tucked under the Housekeeper's chin.

"There was a fire. A huge fire," Sybil whispered against Mrs Hughes' chest.

"Mhmmm," Mrs Hughes urged Sybil to continue.

"And I was out of the house looking at the front entrance. Almost everyone was out but the house was burning badly. But… but… when I looked around I saw that not everyone was out and when I looked at the front door again through the smoke I saw… I saw you, Anna and… and Mama too," Sybil said supressing a sob and Mrs Hughes stroked the girl's back.

"The fire was very high but I could see all of you. Anna was crying and you were holding her Mrs Hughes… just… just like this. Mama was crying too. She was holding her hands to her face and trying to breath but she… but she couldn't," Sybil stopped to cry a little again. Mrs Hughes was overcome with emotion at how terrified the little girl was and she kissed the top of her head giving Sybil the courage to begin again.

"I screamed asking you to come but the fire was too high and none of you were able to even try. I tried to run back into the house but Papa and Mary pulled me back saying that rescuing you were impossible and the fire men had to give up. I cried loudly but I couldn't go back and they put me in an open cart. I think it was the Governess cart and the smoke was thicker. When I kept of watching the front door collapse and then you were not there. The fire was burning and I couldn't see you. I thought you were buried under the fire. All of you. Anna, Mama and you," Sybil finished and cried very loudly. Mrs Hughes' heart leapt out to the little girl. She remembered how she held Becky in the middle of the night when she had a bad dream as they slept together in their narrow bed.

She felt the little girl trembling slightly in her arms and Elsie Hughes' heart melted not for the first time for the little girl in her childish world, who opened her up like a blooming flower after all those years closed away beneath black and a façade of emotions. An imprisonment she had enforced upon herself, for reasons she couldn't help.

"Oh Milady. Everyone is safe. Her Ladyship is probably fast asleep. And I sent Anna up hours ago, she must be asleep now too, probably dreaming of a handsome prince," Mrs Hughes said with a chuckle as she felt the little girl relax in her arms and giggle softly, and she continued, "besides as far as I know, this house has not even had a leaking roof let alone a fire." She felt the little girl let out a slight laugh against her chest and the Housekeeper couldn't help but smile as she tightened her hold on the little girl.

After quite a long pause Mrs Hughes began again, her voice now filled with emotion. "And I… Milady, I am here. Always." She pressed a kiss onto the dark head of hair snuggled against her armed with a pillow and Sybil snuggled even more impossibly close to the Housekeeper that she very much adored.

The night air swallowed the essence of two kind and loving souls as their hearts filled with compassion, always filled to the brim, now overflowed and filled the night and darkness around them. And in the distance, hidden in the night, the trees softly cried.

**To be continued…**

**Thank you so much for your reviews! I'm so grateful. I had finished writing this chapter and thought it to be perfect when something went wrong with my pc and it started installing updates and half of the chapter was lost. But thankfully I was somehow able to bring it back again (fortunately I was quite at the end of the chapter when disaster struck. Hope you like this chapter. I promise to be back with a new one as soon as possible!**


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Mrs Hughes leaned back and took Lady Sybil's face in both of her hands. The little girl smiled timidly from behind her tears seeing the kind eyes of the Housekeeper.

"There now. Feeling better?" Mrs Hughes asked and Sybil nodded. She raised herself a little and wrapped her arms around the Housekeeper's neck and hugged her tight.

"Thank you Mrs Hughes," she whispered and tears filled Elsie's eyes.

"Now young Lady let's get you up to bed before someone finds out. Nanny would very well have a heart attack if she finds you gone in the middle of the night," Mrs Hughes said trying to swallow her tears but she couldn't help the emotions from making her voice to crack on the edges. Lady Sybil released her and took the Housekeeper's work worn hand in her tiny one. Her thumb lightly traced a path along one of the blue veins that shone prominently on the back of Mrs Hughes' hand. Sybil let out a very unladylike yawn without any of her hands to cover her mouth, one clutching her pillow and the other cradling Mrs Hughes' long fingers. Mrs Hughes let out a soft laugh watching the adorable young girl. She found a gentle delight in watching the young girl who was still not tainted by the colours and the ways of upper class living. Still like a little girl more than a young Lady.

"Sleepy head?" she whispered fondling the little girl's dark head of hair. Sybil smiled. Mrs Hughes rose to her feet letting go of Sybil hand and picked the girl up letting out an almost inaudible groan as her back protested the heavy weight of the child after a long day of work. Sybil smiled quite excitedly. It's been a long time since she's been picked up and in the air.

"Am I not heavy Mrs Hughes?" she asked sleepily, quite worried that she might hurt the housekeeper with her weight.

"Aye. You are quite heavy now Milady but it's alright. We'll be able to get you to bed quickly," Mrs Hughes said now mildly regretting her decision. She very much wanted to take the little girl in her arms but the weariness that plagued her for weeks was not quite agreeing with her decision. But no, she really couldn't have the sleepy little girl walking about at this time of the night. What if she tripped herself and fell down and hurt herself.

"Now to the nursery," Mrs Hughes said in a determined tone and Sybil chuckled. Mrs Hughes carefully climbed upstairs on her bare feet. Sybil clutching her pillow in one hand and the other around Mrs Hughes' neck. They walked into the upstairs corridor through the green door that separated the stairs.

The corridors were enveloped in the silence and darkness of the night. Almost all of the candles put out. The richly decorated corridor with its brilliant red carpets padded the bare feet of the housekeeper. Corridors which held so many secrets from lovers' trysts, mysterious deaths and horrors of unspeakable violence to stolen kisses and secret tears over centuries now added to their list the image of a bare footed Housekeeper carrying a young Lady through the darkness. The skirts of her black dress swishing through the darkness and its rustling dying into the night and the white of a child's night gown piercing the darkness.

Once outside the nursery Mrs Hughes slowly placed Sybil down. The warmth of the young girl leaving her and the cold night air invading her again. Sybil smiled sleepily at Mrs Hughes who stroked the little girl's head.

"Now you have a very good night's sleep my Lady," she whispered.

"Good night to you too Mrs Hughes," Sybil replied walking inside as Mrs Hughes slowly opened the door of the nursery. The soft light of a single candle bathed the pretty pastel coloured wall paper of the nursery and its soft shadows glided over the two sleeping young girls. One blonde head and one dark one, curled up in a world of dreams. In a corner on a chair Sophie was fast asleep. Her head dropping down onto her shoulders. Mrs Hughes watched as Sybil tip toed to her bed trying not to disturb her sisters or sleeping Sophie and scramble back to bed, curling herself into a ball beneath covers, letting out a soft sigh, one that Mrs Hughes suspected to be of relief more than contentment.

For a few more moments Mrs Hughes watched the homely scene that stretched ahead of her. Her heart leapt out at it and a beautiful smile lit her face. She wished she could watch on forever at the three beautiful young girls who looked so innocent in their sleep despite their various flaws come daylight. And Sophie too. A young girl of sixteen shouldering the weight of life of a woman. But didn't Elsie too, when she was Sophie's age?

But the night was dying and in a few more hours morning would be born and Mrs Hughes had to be up and about again before the sun's rays kissed the dew soaked grass. She gently closed the door of the nursery behind her, locking out a world she only saw now in her dreams. The wildest ones that one knows one shouldn't dream but can't help but revel in the forbidden happiness that creeps in with it for a few uncertain moments. She walked back across the carpeted corridor into the night. She'll lock her sitting room and put out the lights. Let it sleep too for a few more hours till the bustle of the dawn of the day downstairs invaded its quiet slumber. And let her own weary eyes know some peace.

**To be continued…**

**Thank you all again for all your reviews. I'm ever so grateful. I'm sorry for the delay in updating, a few things at university came up and I promise to update more consistently every time I am able to. Because as much as you enjoy reading this story as you say in your reviews I enjoy writing it. I have a small plan for this story now but it definitely will stretch for several more chapters so stay tuned. And please don't hesitate to let me know your ideas about this story. Hope you liked this chapter! See you soon! **

**P.S. please excuse any typos since I wrote this in quite a hurry. I went over it a couple of times but sometimes one can't help the slight mistakes that slip through one's eyes. Thank you again! **


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The fifteenth of the month came too sooner than Mrs Hughes ever wanted and the morning of the fifteenth every month was a time that Mrs Hughes had dreaded even before she became "Mrs Hughes".

The bill for Becky's care and any other information that the authorities of the care home wanted Rebecca Hughes' guardian who was Mrs Elsie Hughes of Downton Abbey in Downton, Yorkshire to know came by the morning post on the fifteenth of every month in a neat little envelope which found its way to the recipient at breakfast. And ever since the contents of the envelope were thoroughly observed by the trained eyes of a Housekeeper, Mrs Hughes became a different person. Her legendary temper would fly to heights. The maids would run away in fear and meekly obeyed her orders without a word. Mr Carson would run for cover fearing Scottish canons. Miss O'Brien steered clearly away from the path of the Housekeeper. And Mrs Patmore made sure that under no circumstances would she even dare to bring complains about the ordering to "Mary Queen of Scots."

No one knew the exact reason and simply assumed that the Housekeeper was in one of her "moods" as Sarah O'Brien liked to phrase it and the cheekier young maids went on with Mrs Patmore's hypothesis about "female matters" which was more of an emphasis on the phrase by the Lady's Maid than a stand-alone theory. And a self-reclusive Housekeeper had numbers running around her mind balancing her salary with the numbers on the letter written in the curly hand of a secretary, instead of the numbers written on invoices in the messy hand of traders.

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Mrs Hughes looked at the letter again in disbelief. A ten percent increase on Medical Expenses! She could not understand why they were compelled so as to make a sudden rise but that rise certainly affected her quite considerably. The staff received their salaries on the twentieth and the bill was to be paid by the eighteenth of each month and if not it would result in a fixed surcharge. Every month because if this slight inconvenience Mrs Hughes had to foot a surcharge as well. But the increase in the bill meant that she was only left with a sum which was less than quarter of her entire salary. Give or take a few shillings for emergencies and she was left with next to nothing. But what… if... what if _she _was to fall ill? Where would the money come for _her medical expenses _if in case there had to be any? Mrs Hughes felt desperate as if she was holding on to a sinking ship. And behind the close door of her sitting room she swallowed her sobs but let her tears fall freely. She had to have at least that.

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Anna was tidying the nursery in a hurry than usual. Perched on the edge of one of her sisters' beds that were already made, Sybil watched Anna gasping for air as she carried on with her work.

"Are you late today Anna?" she asked wondering what was hurrying Anna.

"No Milady. Mrs Hughes has got herself into a temper and she's biting the heads of the maids. I doubt there's anyone downstairs who didn't get a telling off today," Anna replied chuckling.

"Is it that frightening?" Sybil asked eyes wide open.

"She looks as if she'd go to war with a sword in each hand and defeat an entire army single-handedly."

"Heavens! That must be terrifying," Sybil said and Anna smiled.

"Shall I go down to visit her?" Sybil asked hoping she would be able to pacify the housekeeper.

"I wouldn't think that wise Milady," Anna replied concerned.

"Why? She can't scold me! Well, she won't scold me," Sybil said and the pretty memory of the little Lady on the Housekeeper's lap flashed before Anna's eyes.

"I doubt whether she wouldn't. Probably the last thing to explode her well and truly today would be to escort one little Lady upstairs and by dinner time we'd all be done for. If you don't see me tomorrow I'd probably be dead and buried in the churchyard," Anna let out a little laugh and Sybil couldn't help but join in.

"Or if she's actually a witch as Mary says you would probably be turned into a pretty duster with white feathers," Sybil added and Anna laughed.

"So she's a witch now, our Mrs Hughes?" Anna asked quite amused by the direction of the conversation.

"Mary says so. You don't think so?"

"I don't know. Mrs Patmore calls her Mary Queen of Scots. So does Miss O'Brien sometimes."

"I have no trouble picturing that," Sybil replied trying hard to keep on a straight face and Anna laughed till her sides ached.

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Mrs Hughes was coming back from the laundry having given instructions to the laundry maids when William ran straight into the Housekeeper almost knocking her down, for the second time that day.

"William don't you ever look where you are going?" Mrs Hughes stormed out at the poor footman who was petrified.

"I am so sorry Mrs Hughes," he apologised timidly and stepped aside, for a moment watched the furious Housekeeper walk way.

She burst into the Butler's pantry through the open door without even bothering to knock. The moment he registered her expression, Mr Carson knew she's about to explode.

"Mr Carson, you'd better keep your footmen in line. They are running around like a bunch of wild animals and nearly knocked me down for the second time today! It'd be a wonder if my poor bones would last by the evening!" she stormed out and walked out without even waiting for his reply, leaving a stunned Butler behind.

Mrs Patmore and Miss O'Brien heard her from the kitchen and exchanged a knowing glance. It was once Mrs Hughes had shut the door of her sitting room behind her did Mrs Patmore speak out.

"She's on her war horse today," the Cook said widening her eyes.

"Tell me about it! She's been at me today like the wicked queen on poor Snow White," the Lady's Maid said, leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping from a cup of tea.

"I wouldn't compare _you_ Miss O'Brien to _poor _Snow White," Mrs Patmore replied in her usual dry witted way.

"You would, if you knew the way she pounced on me," Miss O'Brien replied emphatically.

"Well I wouldn't be on her wrong side today for all the gold in the world," Mrs Patmore kept on kneading her dough letting out a deep breath. At the same moment Daisy returned from the larder.

"Mrs Patmore, all the butter in there is salted butter. There's no unsalted. I suppose we'll have to get some from the village if you'll need it to make the dinner," the kitchen maid reported and Mrs Patmore's face fell. Desperation very evident.

"Looks like someone would have to be on her wrong side for _none _of the gold in the world," Miss O'Brien remarked trying hard to contain her mirth by hiding her face behind the tea cup, while Mrs Patmore took in a deep breath.

**Thank you so much for all your reviews. They are truly a great encouragement. I'm so sorry for the delay in updating. University is getting tougher by the day. I'll try my best to update the next chapter as soon as possible and there'll be more with Sybil in it. Thank you. See you soon. (And please leave a review as to what you think about the story if you don't mind. I'd be grateful.) **


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Sybil sneaked out from the front door. There were butterflies in the garden at this time of the year and the little girl was so desperate to see them. However much she asked Nanny, she wouldn't take Sybil there, postponing the visit every time without any reason. Sybil asked her mother and Cora agreed to take Sybil out to see the butterflies but she was so busy and Sybil didn't like to impose. So thinking that she would go on an adventure, Sybil stepped into the gardens in search of butterflies. And maybe if she was lucky enough, fairies.

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Mrs Patmore knocked on the Housekeeper's sitting room door very cautiously. This had to happen today of all days! When an annoyed "Yes" came from within Mrs Patmore opened the door and stepped in.

"There's something I'd like to speak to you about Mrs Hughes," she said knowing that she was threading on thin ice.

"What is it?" the Housekeeper inquired without looking up from her paperwork.

"There seems to be a small problem concerning today's dinner."

"What is the problem with dinner?" the Housekeeper asked in a loud and annoyed voice. The Scottish notes in her voice screaming at the poor Cook.

"Well, I've mentioned unsalted butter in the grocery list last week, alongside salted butter. And due to some reason we've been given three pounds of salted butter instead of two pounds of salted and one pound of unsalted."

"And you are saying it's my fault?" Mrs Hughes asked raising an eyebrow.

"Well I was not saying it exactly was but somehow it seems a bit like it," Mrs Patmore replied trying to cushion her accusation.

"Mrs Patmore! It most certainly said so on list. Three pounds of salted butter!" Mrs Hughes face reddened with rage and Mrs Patmore's face clouded.

"I most certainly mentioned the two separately," Mrs Patmore persisted.

"Well we both overlooked when we got the store cupboard stocked didn't we?" Mrs Hughes said and for a moment Mrs Patmore was lost for words. They had both checked it indeed. Mrs Hughes opened a drawer and from a pile of papers fished out one and held it towards Mrs Patmore.

"This is last week's grocery list. See for yourself," Mrs Hughes thundered handing the Cook the list, "and this is precisely the reason why I always retain the month's lists. Because heaven forbid the Cook from making any mistake. It's always that old Housekeeper who's the blundering one, isn't she?" Mrs Hughes let out all her fire and the Cook surveyed the list with quietly, stunned. It was indeed 3 pounds of salted butter.

"What does it say?" Mrs Hughes asked still cross. Extremely cross.

"I see…" the Cook swallowed hard. "God protect me from the almost rabid Scot in front of me," she thought to herself.

"But I can't get desert done without it!" the Cook protested in a much louder tone.

"Send one of the lads down to the village. Or should I get it for you _personally_?" Mrs Hughes all but shouted at Mrs Patmore.

"No one would have to if I'd have had that key," Mrs Patmore muttered under her breath.

"Don't you dare pull in that wretched key in here! Give it a rest Mrs Patmore! It's your fault here!" Mrs Hughes stated in most loud yet voice she could muster.

"Fine! I'll ask William!" the Cook said as she walked out of the room not bothering to shut the door.

"Mary Queen of Scots thinks she can get on her horse and chop the heads off the rest of us when she's got a cloud in her sky!" Mrs Patmore voice echoed from within the kitchen.

Mrs Hughes got up and slammed the door shut muttering a long string of "colourful" Gaelic words underneath her breath and all but fell on her chair, sighing.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sybil walked as far as she dared to. Her mouth opened in wonder when she saw all the butterflies among the tall grass and the flowers. Swarms of them were flying around as if they were dancing together, each and every one of them. And Sybil jumped into the middle of the beautiful chaos the butterflies created and laughed out loud. To her, it seemed so magical. Even more magical than fairies and pixies. Grass against her knees, the smell of flowers in her nose and the beautiful creatures twirling around her like in a fairy tale. Sybil felt as if there could be nothing more brilliantly happy than this.

Time flew as Sybil skipped around the gardens with the butterflies and the bees. When realisation dawned on her that she was away from the house for much more time than she had intended to, she ran across the garden. Her arms flying behind her along with her dress. Her pretty shoes skipping over the grass. The wind in her hair and a smile on her hair.

It was only when she reached the gravel nearing the house did disaster strike. Sybil lost her footing and tumbled on to the little stones. She didn't scream but scrunched her face in fear and pain. For a few moments she lay on the gravel, painful tears on her eyes and chewing on the inside of her cheek to prevent her from screaming out. What would she do if her mother found out? She'll get a mighty telling off not to mention her mother's extreme panic and her father's angry face. Not to mention Nanny who'll get hysterics at the sight of her. There was only one choice that Sybil had to make the damage look less serious. It would not be a pleasant one, certainly not today of all days but it was her only choice.

**To be continued…**

**Thank you so much for all your reviews. I'm ever so grateful. Hopefully I'll be able to update the next chapter very soon too. And it would be so lovely if you could send in a reviews to tell what you think about the story if you have the time. It would be make me more than happy. Hope you are enjoying the story so far. See you soon with the next chapter. Stay tuned! **


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Sybil made her way to the back of the house towards the servant's entrance wincing in pain. Tears in her eyes. Face scrunched and red. She hurried past the hall boy who was minding some crates. Fortunately her back was towards him and she ran past him, entering the house. No one was to be seen in the corridor save for some angry muttering coming from the kitchen that sounded like Mrs Patmore and Sybil guessed that the kitchen was off limits. She stood in the cold corridor, lost and in pain.

X x x x

Mrs Hughes was coming out from the laundry having instilled the fear of God in the poor souls in there. Scrubbing sheets was a skill that none of the new laundry maids possessed and all what they had done had to be re-done. Certainly not having learnt it properly. Having to have her hands deep in soapy water up to her elbows to demonstrate had only turned Mrs Hughes' temper from bad to worse. Her heels were striking angrily against the stone floors and nothing could have prepared her for the shock that awaited her when she reached the main corridor downstairs.

X x x x

Standing several feet in front of her was the youngest Crawley daughter, more dishevelled than Mrs Hughes could imagine the curious and enthusiastic young girl could be. The white collar of her dress torn and muddied. An extremely large wound on the left corner of her forehead. Several small wounds and bruises littering her arms and legs. Her knees bright red with blood, the topmost layer of skin most definitely gone. Mrs Hughes opened her mouth in surprise and gasped. The only thing to distinguish the girl to be a child of aristocratic birth from a farmer's daughter was her pretty dress and fair skin.

"Good Heavens! What on _earth _have ye got yerself into?" Mrs Hughes couldn't help but exclaim. Her voice coming out angrily than she intended owing to her last encounter with the blundering laundry maids. Its result only being the little girl's face scrunching up even more, fresh tears forming in her eyes.

Mrs Hughes rushed to Sybil and inspected the little girl's wounds. No deep cuts. Just some large bruises and small wounds that were only surface cuts.

"What happened Milady?" she asked tenderness slowly creeping up her voice but still managing to frighten the child.

"I fell down. On the gravel," she whispered and started crying.

"There, there now Milady. We'll get you sorted out a bit and then we'll have to deal with Her Ladyship and Nanny. I have no doubt what they would have to say about this," Mrs Hughes replied stroking Sybil's head and a sly smile creeping up her lips. Lady Sybil did have a taste for adventure and getting into trouble. Quite like a certain brown haired Scottish lass who went rolling down fields for the fun of it and encountering a stubborn rock or two.

Mrs Hughes took Sybil in her arms and carried her to her sitting room. Having placed Sybil on the settee, she leaned down and touched the angry looking bruise on the girl's forehead, causing Sybil to hiss in pain.

"That looks quite bad. Apart from your knees Milady. I'll get some water to clean the wounds if you promise me that you won't go ailing anywhere with the wind while I'm gone. _This _is quite enough for some time to come," the Housekeeper furrowed her brow a little and left. It was bad enough her morning starting with worries over Becky now Lady Sybil's got herself some fine scrapes.

"Lord help the poor Nanny," Mrs Hughes thought as she hurried to find a bowl. She walked straight into the kitchen and fetched a bowl, filling it with water from the tap. Mrs Patmore looked at the Housekeeper in bewilderment.

"Why in wonderland would you need water at this time?" the Cook asked, curiosity getting the better of her despite their earlier argument.

"Lady Sybil," Mrs Hughes replied. Her tone not betraying much emotion but the observant Cook noticed a lifting of the storm that was hovering about the Housekeeper all morning.

"Lady Sybil?" Mrs Patmore questioned, not being able to make head or tail out of the awkward answer.

"She's had a fall. Nothing bad. Just some nasty scrapes," Mrs Hughes replied, a smile on her face now, as she left the kitchen with it. Mrs Patmore's surprised gaze following the Housekeeper's disappearing form.

"That's a mighty big change of the wind in _her sails_!" she mock whispered to the kitchen maid. Having received no encouraging response as to the comment from her audience, the Cook let out an annoyed grunt and carried on.

X x x x

Mrs Hughes took clean white cloths out of one of her small cabinets. She bent to place the bowl on the floor and knelt in front of Sybil whose crying had subsided a little by then.

"Now this Milady will sting a little," she said as she dipped the cloth in the water and first placed it gently on the girl's knee, and she hissed in pain, much louder than before.

"My, my. There's some stubborn little stones left in there. There's one quite bad. Hold my hand and squeeze tight when it hurts," Mrs Hughes said taking Sybil's hand in hers. With the cloth in her other hand she took out a slightly big piece of stone that had got stuck on the girl's knee as gently as she was able to. Despite her efforts to keep it subtle, it must have hurt quite a lot for Mrs Hughes felt Sybil squeezing her hand so tight with her little one till her tiny knuckles turned white.

"There, it's gone now. The rest won't hurt much. How did you fall on the gravel anyway Milady?" she asked now dabbing at the other knee.

"I stumbled," came the nervous reply.

"What I was getting into was, Milady, how did you happen to be outside at this time for you to fall on the gravel?" the Housekeeper asked raising en eyebrow. Sybil couldn't help the mischievous smile that was forming on her face.

"I assume that you weren't supposed to be there," Mrs Hughes tried to prompt, carefully containing the rigid look she forced on her face. She wanted to smile at the wild and curious girl in front of her. But she was too worried about the child's safety. What if she had gotten into some serious accident? Mrs Hughes wasn't the over careful type of person but she's had a taste of the kind of accidents children got into, during her time. Both gotten into and seen. So she couldn't be more careful about the lovely girl she cared for so much.

"I went to see the butterflies. And when I came back I fell," Sybil whispered. Not exactly sure whether the Housekeeper was angry with her or not.

"Butterflies?"

"They were so beautiful Mrs Hughes! They were dancing. Among the flowers. So beautiful!" the little girl's sad face brightened up at the mention of the best part of her adventure.

"But it was wrong going out without permission Milady," Mrs replied pulling on an even more stern look.

"It was only for a moment," Sybil whined, quite adorably, Mrs Hughes thought.

"Even so! You should have mentioned it to Her Ladyship, Milady or Nanny and got permission."

"I thought _you_ went on adventures too Mrs Hughes!" Sybil protested.

"Aye and that's why I'm telling you Milady. There's lots of things that can happen to you. While getting a few scrapes may sound exciting there's much worse possibility of damage. Trust me, I know Milady," Mrs Hughes warned while dipping the cloth back in the water and wiping Sybil's arms.

"Now this!" the Housekeeper muttered as she hovered the cloth above the large wound on the forehead, her brow furrowed in concentration. She gently placed the damp cloth on the bruise. Sybil bit on the inside of her cheek to stop crying out. After the first few touches the pain eased a bit and most of the tension left the girl's body. Mrs Hughes wordlessly rose and took the bottle of iodine from her small storage box along with some cotton wool. She settled herself back to her previous position and carefully applied on the wounds and bruises.

"There done now," Mrs Hughes leaned back and looked approvingly at her work. Sybil smiled.

"Thank you Mrs Hughes," she whispered.

"Now promise me Milady that you will never wonder off on your own without permission and fall into trouble," Mrs Hughes said, a slight hint of a smile now on her face.

"But…" Sybil began to protest but Mrs Hughes cut her short.

"No Milady. Promise me. Please?"

Sybil looked into the Housekeeper's eyes and hesitated. She didn't want to hurt Mrs Hughes but she didn't want to make a promise on that subject either.

"You can go on your adventures with permission and maybe… someone looking over you? Milady I'm asking you to promise me is because I'd hate to see you hurt," Mrs Hughes said as she ran her fingers softly along Sybil's cheek.

"I promise you Mrs Hughes," the little girl whispered.

"There's a good little Lady," the Housekeeper said as she continued to stroke the girl's cheek softly, wiping away the stains of tears from earlier.

She rose from the floor, her knees giving a soft creak. And smiled with Sybil.

"Now what would you say about a glass of milk and a couple of biscuits my Lady?" Mrs Hughes asked and Sybil's eyes sparkled instantly.

**To be continued…**

**Thank you so much for your reviews. I'm so grateful for all your encouraging and lovely words. I'll most probably be having some time in my hands in the weeks to come so I'll try my best to update as soon as I am able to update. Hope you liked this chapter. See you soon with the next one!** **(And it would be so lovely if you could write a small review on what you think about the story so far, if you have the time. Thank you so much!)**


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

**This is the second chapter I posted today so please check out the previous chapter if you already have not. Thanks!**

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"Mrs Patmore could you please fix a glass of milk and some biscuits on to a tray? And maybe add a cup of tea on it too," Mrs Hughes requested trying her best not to look too relaxed but failing quite epically based on her usual standards.

"Milk?" Mrs Patmore questioned surprised. The Housekeeper was full of weird requests today. Made even weirder due to the fact that it was one of her "days" as Mrs Patmore would usually refer to it and "one of her moods" as Miss O'Brien would term it.

"For Lady Sybil. She's had quite a fright. Poor girl," came Mrs Hughes reply in a heavily concerned tone.

"Daisy fetch a glass of milk!" Mrs Patmore ordered the kitchen maid who went scurrying to get.

"It's not bad is it?" the Cook asked surprised at the change in the Housekeeper's mood given the state she's bee in all morning.

"No. She's a bit upset but nothing out of the sort you or would have gotten into at that age," Mrs Hughes replied smiling.

_Oh Heavens above! She's smiling! _Mrs Patmore couldn't help but wonder. The attentive Cook didn't know that the Housekeeper had taken a shine to Lady Sybil. She had seen Lady Mary knock on Mr Carson's door when she came hunting for peppermints during times when she was not allowed any sweets. But taking a shine to a child is the last thing Mrs Patmore had expected from Mrs Hughes. Daisy returned with the milk and Mrs Patmore fixed tray.

"Chocolate or ginger? The cookies I mean"

"Chocolate I think. She likes chocolate," Mrs Hughes' reply quite amused the Cook. Elsie Hughes was the caring kind of person but Mrs Patmore never expected her to be excited about it. Life was full of surprises after all, the Cook concluded.

"There you are," Mrs Patmore said as she handed the tray to Mrs Hughes.

"Thank you Mrs Patmore," Mrs Hughes took the tray and walked towards her sitting room. Mrs Patmore watched her leave the kitchen.

"What a pleasant surprise it is to know that Mary Queen of Scots has got a heart after all," She muttered to herself.

* * *

Mrs Hughes pulled a chair close to the settee and placed the tray down on it. She placed the glass of milk in Sybil's hand and without any further delay Sybil took a long sip of her glass. Mrs Hughes sat next to the girl taking the cup of tea with her. While Sybil was occupied with her glass of milk, Mrs Hughes' mind ran back again to Becky. A shadow coming upon her face and silence invading her. Sybil looked up from the glass of milk and watched the Housekeeper lost in deep thought. To Sybil this was odd. Mrs Hughes never looked sad. At least not during the times she's seen her.

"Anything the matter Mrs Hughes?" she asked gently with concern written all over her sweet voice.

"No dear nothing that would concern you," she smiled back at Sybil but the little girl noticed the worry in the Housekeeper's eyes despite her lips pulling a smile. One prominent thing Sybil noticed was how Mrs Hughes' smile reached her eyes. When she was genuinely smiling small, pretty sparks came upon her blue eyes and even when the sparks were missing one could genuinely see the smile on her eyes too. But now the eyes were separate from the smile.

"Are you?" Sybil inquired cautiously understanding that she might be threading on thin ice.

"Yes Milady. Nothing for you to worry about. Just me," she replied but with her hand tightening the hold around the handle of the tea cup.

"You look as if you've got a lot on your mind."

"Haven't I every single day?" Mrs Hughes asked with a painful laugh.

"No. Not like on other days," Sybil stated softly and immediately diving behind her glass of milk afraid that she had gone overboard.

Mrs Hughes smiled. There was no answer she could give the little girl. A lot was definitely going on in her mind and not much of it was household problems. It's not that she could explain to the little girl about her little sister who was "not right in the head." The young girl has not seen enough of the world to understand it where even most grown adults had not. Most people presumed Becky to be "mad" or "mental" when she explained the condition but it certainly was not the case. How could she distinguish the subtle nature of her sister's mind?

"It's that we all have duties Milady. Things we are meant to do. And also things we are not supposed to do but we do because we care about people. Sometimes in life when it feels as if you can't fulfil them, when you feel you are losing your grip, then it's as if everything is falling apart," the Housekeeper finished with a sigh. Her eyes looking ahead yet not fixed at a particular spot.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Sybil replied watching the Housekeeper's faraway look.

"No. You wouldn't my Lady," Mrs Hughes almost whispered and finally smiled looking tenderly at the little girl. A real smile. For the first time that day.

"I like it when you smile like that," Sybil said quickly and dived behind her glass back again.

"Do you now?" the amiable Housekeeper asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. Would you mind giving Anna that smile today? She looked as if her life had been scared out of her," Sybil suggested quickly stuffing half of a biscuit into her mouth.

"Well. That girl ought to get half a million of my worst glares the way she started out work today. She's lucky she got only about half a dozen of those," Mrs Hughes replied keeping on a straight face and a stern look while Sybil laughed.

"She said if she didn't appear tomorrow she'd probably be dead and buried."

"Well I'd do it personally if she doesn't manage to get that stain she managed to place on one of Her Ladyship's dresses sorted out!" Mrs Hughes said in mock anger and Sybil laughed till her sides hurt.

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**To be continued…**

**Thank you so much for your lovely reviews! I'm glad I was able to update quite consistently the past few times. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! It would be great if you could let me know in the reviews what you think about it. See you soon with a new update!**


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

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Mrs Hughes was sewing by candlelight at her desk in her sitting room. Lady Sybil's collar was well and truly ruined and the little girl didn't want to part with her dress. Therefore Mrs Hughes undertook the task of mending the dress for her. Her Ladyship had insisted that it should not be mended as punishment for Sybil's carelessness but Mrs Hughes managed to gently coax Lady Grantham to allow her to mend it.

That was how Mrs Hughes found herself replacing the collar of the pretty purple and white flowered dress after almost everyone had gone to bed. Mr Carson was held up in the drawing room after dinner and Mrs Hughes occupied herself with the dress to pass the time despite the strain it would leave on her eyes. It was becoming almost impossible to see the white thread upon the white collar and she was considering giving it a rest for the night when a familiar knock sounded on her door follow by its opening. Mr Carson walked in with a half filed decanter and two glasses.

"His Lordship just went to bed. I was quite afraid he never would," he said as he set the glasses and the decanter down on the small table the desk. "Looks like you've kept yourself occupied since it seemed as if I was never coming," he commented eyeing the dress in Mrs Hughes' hands.

"I was in fact considering going to bed," Mrs Hughes replied, giving a few final stitches to the collar, bringing it a bit more close to her eyes against the dim yellow light.

"That… doesn't seem like something I am accustomed to see you sew," Mr Carson commented, hopelessly curious.

"I doubt you've seen me mind anything besides black. Save the occasional dress of Her Ladyship's," Mrs Hughes replied laughing as she cut the thread with a pair of scissors and pinned the needle down on a pretty little pin cushion.

"I… I didn't mean to pry. It's just that I've noticed," Mr Carson said looking down, suddenly feeling very embarrassed.

"It's Lady Sybil's," she replied with a smile amused by his adorable embarrassed look, "I am well past the age of wearing these," she said holding up the pretty dress and Mr Carson laughed at the mischievous expression on her face.

"You'd have looked pretty at her age in a dress like that," he said without thinking and suddenly felt even more embarrassed. It always escaped him how he would always ask her a very personal question and then realise that it was wrong of him when it was much late and the damage, if any, would have already been done.

"I didn't own such pretty colours when I was young. Nothing this bright at all. Besides it wasn't much about the colour but durability, ability to stand the weather. And that and colour was never a feasible combination," Mrs Hughes said as she looked longingly at the dress.

It wasn't entirely about the durability or the weather. She couldn't tell him that. Being a farmer's daughter, pretty fabrics were beyond her. And she never begged her parents for a pretty dress ever in her life. She was happy with the dull coloured hardy fabrics she got for dresses, with tight sleeves and skirts never full as she would have liked them to be. Elsie couldn't help the slight pang of jealousy seeing the other girls wear pretty dresses to church. But she contended herself thinking that despite their pretty frocks none of them did well at Mathematics as well as she did.

When she became housemaid, she was proud of the pretty apron she got to wear. With pretty frills and plenty of pleats. When she became Housekeeper, the allowance she got for her uniforms seemed like a luxury. Intricate lace and the cheaper brocade, despite being black, seemed like the best satin and silk in the world for the farmer's daughter who grew up with cheap cotton, rough wool and the occasional wincey.

Seeing Mrs Hughes watching the dress so longingly, Mr Carson felt that he might have involuntarily hit a nerve. He knew she was a farm girl and she rarely spoke of tales of her childhood save the occasional few about the antics she got up to as a cheeky young girl. But never of what things were like at home. He assumed it must have been a life of hardships. His father on the contrary was Head Groom to the then Earl of Grantham. His childhood wasn't luxurious but it was comfortable. Much more than hers would have been, he imagined.

"Might I ask how you found yourself mending it?" he asked eager to deviate the Housekeeper from whatever nostalgia or longing that seemed to occupy her at that moment and also owing to his curiosity peaked by eyeing the tattered piece of white clothing, which assumed was a collar she was replacing, lying next to her sewing box, on top of her pin cushion.

"Lady Sybil took a fall on the gravel near the front door," she replied smiling at the memory of the bloodied and dishevelled girl looking at her like a puppy dog found guilty of pinching a bone from the kitchens.

"How on _earth_?" Mr Carson almost bellowed in surprise.

"She's gone to see the butterflies and when she came running back she has twisted her leg," she said and slightly raised her hand to stop him when he tried to interrupt, "Yes, yes she's alright. Just some bruises and a few wounds. The one on the forehead's a bit deep though, I suppose. But it isn't bad. Give it a week and it will heal completely."

"You mean you nursed her without calling for the doctor?" he asked quite agitated by that point. To him, it was certainly very improper and highly careless of her for not calling the doctor in a matter of an illness of a member of the family, regardless of how mild it may be.

"It was just a fall Mr Carson. She fell straight on her face. She's not taken it to the back of her head, then you'll have me worried about it. This is the sort of thing children get into. The same sort of thing you and I would have got into back we were running about," Mrs Hughes emphasized trying to show the Butler some reason. She knew how high and mighty he got about these things. She even wondered if he possibly thinks of the girls as fully grown young ladies in all grace and glamour.

"But she's not you or I, is she?" he cross questioned a Housekeeper whose shimmering coals from morning were beginning to turn bright red.

"She is a child Mr Carson. Just a child. Give it at least a ten more years before she'll have to walk with a head held high, hands in front and doing embroidery in the day," she argued. Her voice strong, but her eyes pleading.

"What if she had hurt herself too badly?"

"I warned her about being more careful. And if she didn't buy it from me she would have certainly from Her Ladyship. She's a little bird, that one. You can't picture her cooped up in one place like the Blessed Lady Mary," she began with the tone from earlier, "besides in a few more years, that girl would be gone. Turned into a Lady. The real and proper kind. And I daresay when that happens I'll miss the little girl whose turns up in here out of nowhere, aiming to fish out my jar of chocolate cookies," she finished on a softer tone, a smile gracing her face as she looked up at the top drawer where the aforementioned jar was stored.

Mr Carson watched her while her eyes were fixed elsewhere. Her temperament was a lovely and welcome contrast to what it was all morning. Gentle with a strong dose of strength, like the shadows that played across her face in the candlelight. The blue of her eyes had dulled in the yellow light but the same light complimented the waves and the shade of her beautiful hair. Her cheekbones stared at him with the same severity and sharpness she wore in her eyes. Everything of her was just like who she was. Precise. And like many an evening before he got drunk in what was Elsie Hughes.

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**TO BE CONTINUED…**

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**It was quite tricky to write this chapter and I guess it would tricky for a few more chapters to come. Thank you again for your kind reviews. They keep me motivated and make me happy. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please let me know what you thought of it and the story so far, in the reviews. I would be so glad and grateful if you do. See you soon with a new chapter! (I have also published chapters of this story quite regularly than usual so please check out if you have missed any of those chapters. Thanks again!)**


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Mr Carson could have kept on looking at his Housekeeper forever but she suddenly looked down from where her gaze was fixed and looked into his eyes. There was an unreadable expression painted across their blue depths. Happiness mingled with sorrow. Joy swirling around longing. One could not point one feeling out. Her eyes were a vicious current of emotions that Mr Carson most willingly got himself caught in. But in a matter of seconds he felt embarrassed to hold her gaze for too long and he looked down at his hands.

Mrs Hughes carefully watched the Butler becoming flustered. She dared to dream that he reciprocated her feelings. _He just thinks it's improper to keep staring at a woman, _she thought quite harshly and looked away.

Sensing the awkward silence he cleared his throat and spoke, "It's a fine Margaux tonight Mrs Hughes. But I'm afraid it's not up to its usual standards since it had been kept open for too long. Nevertheless I can assure you it won't disappoint," he smiled at the end, but not looking directly at her.

"Thank you Mr Carson," she replied gently and folded the girl's dress neatly placing it on her desk while he poured the wine. She watched him pour effortlessly with a practised hand. She wished everything else was so effortless for him as was wine. Carefully closing the decanter he looked at her expectantly and she rose from her chair at her desk and joined him on the opposite end of the table.

"What do you think?" he asked after she had taken a sip.

"Very good," she replied. That was all she had to say about wine almost every day. She noticed but couldn't elaborate the finer details of the wines as he did. But one thing she truly enjoyed, watching the glow of fascination in his eyes as he explained to her about exclusive French grapes and signature vineyards. Of hidden flowery tones and the traces of nuts. It was a minute world that she alone would not have cared to notice but when he took her attention so vigorously in his hands and led her along a path that she never cared to notice, she lived a little more than she imagined she could.

"There's a hint of violets. And truffles too. Mind you if this had been from a freshly opened bottle, the violets would have been very significant. I'm afraid the cigar smoke had ruined the finer notes to a significant extent," he stated taking another sip. She watched as he savoured the wine, as if he was looking for the lost violets. She couldn't help but smile. He always had an eye for the finer details in "things" like silver, wine and the many other things in work he had made his life. But a finer eye for people, emotions in particular was something she was yet to identify if he possessed.

He noted her silence. She was never silent unless something was running across her mind. He was no great judge of people but he had worked long enough with her to know that. And her frightening temper this morning probably had something to do with the contemplative Elsie Hughes that was left behind after the fire breathing Dragon.

"Mrs Hughes, if I maybe so bold were you upset about something all morning?" he inquired gently knowing she can be capricious at times.

"And why, might I ask, did you become so bold as to ask to inquire about it?" she asked amusedly, hoping that a sharp cross question would end the conversation for good. She certainly couldn't discuss Becky tonight, not after the letter from morning. And she certainly could not afford to have him judge her for decisions regarding her sister by him. Not today, not in this fragile state of mind she was in.

"Mrs Hughes, you were virtually eating the footmen and maids alive. And that is something that _I_ usually do," he explained, trying to lighten the mood. And of course not mentioning the several time she had been terribly cross with him since morning.

At this she laughed. She certainly was a volcano since morning. Viciously active. And then mildly active after Lady Sybil's unexpected intervention.

"I did get cross with you several times, didn't I?" she smiled shyly as she spoke, now ashamed that she had allowed her personal feelings to affect her work.

"Not that I minded it very much Mrs Hughes though I feel I must add that at certain times it did seem very unfair of you. But were you worried about something? And if you don't mind my imposing upon you I could lend a friendly ear to whatever it is," he said, knowing he was threading on thin ice.

"Life Mr Carson. Like it is for all of us. Just life," she replied softly and quietly, breaking their gaze and looking at the far corner of the room.

Charles Carson, though how insensitive he was presumed to be in the last three decades or so, still knew that her answer was the product of a vexed mind as well as one cleverly crafted to make him abandon the matter. Her faraway look told him there was more to her whirlwind of emotions than "just life" as she phrased it. More particularly "just." It was always life that kept on bothering every single person within these walls and beyond but it was never "just" life. It was always something specific. Something so close to one's heart. He watched as she turned the wine glass around on her palm by its stem. Wrinkles were appearing on her fair fingers, time was passing, he noticed. Time was flying by. And it doesn't wait. It will never wait.

"Quite the sentimentalist we have here, don't we?" he remarked without thinking. A thought that didn't occupy a single space in his mind, a passing one that bluntly escaped his attention, till he had involuntarily spoken it out loud. Mrs Hughes looked at him sharply, having swiftly turned her head towards a Butler who was internally cursing himself.

"I didn't mean it Mrs Hughes. And certainly not as a harsh insult which you might have interpreted it to be," he quickly added, knowing that he had well and truly being misjudged.

"It's alright Mr Carson," she said in a strong but tender voice that made him look at her in surprise. Certainly not the response he expected it to be. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. His direction of conversation was going terribly wrong, and definitely not taking the path he wanted it to take.

She understood that he was just trying to make casual conversation. A skill, she had long noted, that he didn't seem to possess in the slightest. It did hurt her a bit, the tone with which he spoke out the comment from earlier but his actions betrayed that he had stumbled on words blindly. Several silent minutes passed by the two heads of the household who were trying to steer an emotional conversation onto a more comfortable ordinary ground. Emotion, they both thought weren't part of them, but the bitter reality they hated to face was the fact that they were both forced to bury it. Wickedly, alive, gasping for breath. Yet secretly wishing that some stroke of luck, if not for Providence, would unearth what was buried before it had died a brutal death.

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**To be continued…**

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**Thank you everyone for your reviews. I really can't say how happy they have made me! I'm not very sure about the outcome of this chapter. But I hope you would like it. And I will definitely try to write a better one next. And so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. A few things came up. See you soon with the next chapter! **


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

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"I am sorry Mr Carson for making you upset several times this morning. I was not in a good frame of mind and I let it affect my work. I admit, it is highly unprofessional. I am sorry," Mrs Hughes stated gently, finally breaking the silence between them.

"It is alright Mrs Hughes. I do not deny that I did feel you were unjustly accusing me at times," he said and Mrs Hughes smiled an apologetic smile, "but we are all human after all, aren't we? In life we make mistakes and they are what we must base our improvement on," he ended on a philosophical note. Mrs Hughes wondered how Mr Carson was capable of such fine words of wisdom spoken with such class and elegance. She presumed that it was his work that had cultivated this ability in him.

"Thank you Mr Carson. I am indeed very grateful for your kind consideration," she replied in her own practiced tone of Victorian politeness, which was rather force fed on the Highland girl as she grew up.

Mr Carson tilted his head slightly to the side, as he often did when she was upset or when he felt sorry for her. He wanted to let her know that he is willing to listen to whatever was on her mind in the strictest of his confidence but how he was to this through to her without making it sound too forward and intruding, he didn't know.

"Mrs Hughes I am here for you if you were to need anything," he subtly put his words in place hoping she would read in between the lines, the help he was ever willing and ready to offer to her. The love he held for her. She looked at him and smile. The kind of smile of hers that he would die to see every minute he is awake. That smile he thinks of every minute before he falls asleep and when he first wakes. Her smile that is so radiant with kindness.

"Thank you for that Mr Carson," she replied emphatically. Her tone relayed to him that she had in deed read between the unsuspecting words, as she almost always did. And though she may choose to act upon the reassurance he had offered, he was pleased and relieved that she did not toss his offer aside either not caring or in shock.

Mrs Hughes was grateful for his words. She knew that he would always be her friend and stand beside her. He knew he was a kind man. But Becky was a rough sea that she knew many could not withstand. She would hate it if he was to think less of Becky or he was to think her unkind for supporting her monetarily instead of caring her. She knew she gave the poor lass a better chance of life this way than caring for her by herself but Mrs Hughes could not take the risk. She could not have him thinking her selfish and unkind, inconsiderate. She knew that making Charles Carson look at look at her from an evil light would tear her apart and wreck her world. So she just smiled. A smile that she hoped would convey to him her gratitude for his words. And an apology for not letting go of her secret.

And he read through her smile. He knew her life was all within herself and she rarely let it out. Never to other but always with him, when she wanted to. And he decided not to put further on the matter of the anxiety. Like always she would tell him, all in her good time. And he would wait. He would always wait for Elsie Hughes.

Elsie's eyes fell on the dress on her desk. It may be because of the tenderness induced in her heart by Mr Carson's words earlier, which made her speak her next words without any encouragement or inquiry from him.

"It's lovely to have a child around," she spoke softly, her eyes still fixed on the dress.

"You do enjoy having Lady Sybil around, don't you?" he asked quite surprised. She almost never initiated conversation on such sentimental matters that were close to her heart. It was required a rather ungentle push of his words to get the sentences out of her. He watched it awe as she spoke of the little girl with such love and affection.

"Reminds me of a bit of myself. That seems like a hundred years though," she finished her sentence looking at him. And he tilted his head in that adorable way, making her hold her smile for longer than she initially intended to. He could easily picture the similarities. Two dark haired, adventurous girls always getting into trouble over their curiosity. That sounded very much like a young Elsie. But he also noted the differences. While Lady Sybil was mostly soft spoken, Elsie commanded a confident loud voice. While the young girl had eyes with the blue of the skies, his Elsie had the blue of the Northern Scottish seas. The seas in her eyes, he would gladly drown in, to seek their depths and to love their waters.

* * *

Several every day conversations passed between the Butler and the Housekeeper, from misbehaving footmen to the plots of the Ladies' maids and valets, from His Lordship's various dilemmas to Her Ladyship's myriad different requests and the Dowager's cutting lines. The grocer's boy winking at a kitchen maid and his father trying to avoid his promise of a discount on the flour. From Lady Mary managing to shatter a vase a half century old to the mistakes in wine deliveries, till the little clock on the Housekeeper's mantelpiece struck twelve midnight.

"I suppose that's marching orders for us, Mrs Hughes," Mr Carson got up from his chair having emptying his glass and Mrs Hughes handed him her empty one. He carefully placed the stopper on the decanter while she put out the final embers of the fire that had died many minutes ago and then went on to put of the candle on her desk. She shut the lid of her ink pot, gave her papers a final shuffle and put her sewing box into the cabinet along with the pin cushion. Then folding the dress of the little girl to take it up with her lest something happens to spoil it more during the night if it was to be left in the sitting room.

From a distance he watched her make these practised movements. To him, his pantry was his office, a mark of his dignity. A title for his honour and position. But to her this was a sanctuary. A little home she carefully created for herself beneath a roof which was not her own. The display of the china she had received from employers before and present in gratitude for her loyal service. Little trinkets she had collected over the years fit for a house she probably doesn't know if she would ever have for herself. Embroidered flower bouquets in cheap golden frames, their paint dulled and long gone, left only in some corners like relics from an age past. Picture post cards of the green hills and dark lochs of Scotland, and of blue beaches and golden sand, that he couldn't recognise where, with children playing in the background, all faded into the sepia tones. Photographs with people whom he dared not question who. Though in the far corner, almost unnoticed in a tiny frame, a teenaged Elsie Hughes smiling at the photographer, in another time and another place. An entirely different world.

She walked over to the table, as always like she did finally, and took the candle stick in her hand and she felt his gaze glide over her arm and then to her face as she leaned in slightly to take the candlestick with the now very short candle. She took a few steps towards the door frame and he faced her. Only he knew the hurricane of emotions let loose in his heart and the weighing of the possibilities in his mind. She hoped he did not hear the beating of her heart right through her chest. Or the sigh that is threatening to escape from her lips. He let his gaze linger on her eyes and she allowed hers to linger on his.

"Mrs Hughes…" he began on a softer note than usual. The softest note he thought he could manage. His heart urged him to continue, to seize the moment. His mind willed him to wait, for the perfect time would come for them when it is supposed to. They played a game of tug of war with his soul in the seconds that clicked past and were creeping on to be minutes.

She knew the embers that were burning between them had showed tender flames that night. She knew the answer her heart was prepared to give. But not so sure if that coincided with what her mind reasoned to be the most apt for their situation. This wasn't the time for them. This wasn't the place for them. This was very well not the lifetime for them. But a soft whisper at the very corner of her soul told her, _the time will come, it will, perhaps not right now, but it will, it will. _

"I wish you a very good night," he voiced as he swallowed the harsh lump that rose at his throat. But the fear and regret he was prepared to feel was washed away with the heavenly smile that she readily gave him. Maybe she would never speak her love for him in the very words they wanted to hear but in her smile, he knew her heart overflowed. That would keep them going, till it is time.

"A very good night to you too Mr Carson. Sweet dreams," she said softly and waited a minute till she broke their enchanting gaze. But the beautiful bubble of their world remained intact. It was a bubble they would save, a bubble they would fight with fate to save, over time.

He blew out the only remaining candle in the corridor and followed her up the stairs. The sweet dreams that she wished upon him would be filled with nothing but its speaker.

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**TO BE CONTINUED…**

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**Thank you all so much for your kind reviews. I am ever so grateful. I'm sorry about taking too long to update. I promise I'll try to publish the next chapter as soon as possible. And please excuse any typing errors. I checked the document a couple of times but there are always a few that slip through. Hope you don't mind those. And also please excuse the long descriptions and any discrepancies in terms of the nature of the dialogue of the era. I am from nowhere near the UK or Europe for the matter *apologetically smiles* and in our country we do have quite an affinity towards lengthy descriptions. See you soon with a new chapter! **


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

**November 1901 – Downton Abbey **

Mrs Hughes was doing the final round for the night. Mr Carson was in the library waiting on His Lordship. Her Ladyship was already in bed and O'Brien had also retired for the night. The halls were quiet and the faint light of candles swallowed the bright reds of the carpets and dimmed them into a gentler shade of maroon. The air was getting cooler by the day but almost everyone was complaining about the snow being late this year. By this time on most other years the Yorkshire landscape would be a crisp thin layer of snow upon dying grasses and a rough wind howling among the trees. Back in Scotland, Elsie was used being knee deep in the snow, walking from the house to the barn and back, the cold biting against her cheeks. Maybe her upbringing among the highlands was what made her better at standing the cold than most others at Downton.

She stopped at the far end of the gallery where through a large window silvery moonlight poured into the corridor, the shadows of branches dancing across the mingling yellow and silver light. Elsie leaned against the windowsill and gently pressed her cheek against the cold glass of the window pane. The night was lonely and silent and it didn't take long for the cold to shoot through the entirety of her body making her shudder a couple of times till it registered the cold. She watched the moonlight play over the lawns at the back of the castle and on the glass walls of the greenhouse which housed exquisite roses, set up by the Dowager in the 1880s. The fairy tale like metal fittings which curled at the edges into a spiral and held a lamp, looked enchanting in the moonlit night. The lamps were not lit and Elsie imagined stories of fairies and princesses. And from the distance she eyed a few floating specks dancing across the sky. The first of the snow. A single snow flake floated along with the wind, hovered a few times over and stuck to the glass. Elsie gasped. The first snow flake. Like a child once more, she wondered whether she should make a wish.

* * *

Elsie gave her hair a final pat making sure several pins were firmly in place and adjusted the tiny brooch on her collar. Her first peak from the tiny window by the staircase revealed a vast expanse covered in a thin layer of snow. Perhaps she might get a shawl down to her sitting room later, it was bound to be cold later on.

She walked down to the servant's hall and Mr Carson arrived a few minutes behind her and they began breakfast.

"Did you see it's snowed?" Anna asked Jane excitedly.

"It looked beautiful this morning!" Jane replied equally excited and Elsie couldn't help but smile at her porridge at the excitement of the young girls about the snow.

"What's so special about it? It comes. Gives us a hell of a nightmare and then it goes. That's hardly something to be excited about," Mr Watson, His Lordship's valet sneered beside her and annoyance crept through her bones.

"But Mr Watson isn't it beautiful and so peaceful outside," Nancy asked a bit naively oblivious of the valets intense disapproval of almost anything.

"If you could call trying to keep your neck unbroken each walk to and from the village peaceful," he countered in an even more disgusted tone.

"Mrs Hughes?" Anna asked expectantly. The young girl guessed that given the Housekeeper's Scottish roots she might not have an aversion to snow unlike the London born valet.

"I like the snow," she stated her opinion plainly and simply, and watched the girls become more animated having found a fellow supporter for their cause in the Housekeeper. They knew she wasn't one to elaborate why and how or go into fascinating descriptions of snowy landscapes, dripping with romantic metaphors.

"Well, when one comes from the where there's sunshine most of the year this is hell. But to some others who are pretty much out of forests there might be some appeal to the cold and dreary," the impertinent valet remarked eyeing the Housekeeper from the corner of the eyes, an evil smirk on his lips and Elsie stiffened but not visibly, choosing to pass the comment on as if unheard. There'll be far more grave things to argue about.

Mr Watson had always been at odds with the Housekeeper over mainly her heritage and her confident command of the downstairs staff despite it. He particularly seemed displeased that the Scottish Housekeeper held a rank above his. But no one else took particular interest in his age old prejudices but his offhand comments which were not substantial enough for a reprimand were not lost on many of the staff. Mrs Hughes chose to ignore than fight a petty battle of words but the clever Housekeeper, never being one to give up, defeated the valet on many other ways.

He tried to win a supporter in Miss O'Brien, but the shrewd woman had not forgotten the times when she was called out in reference to her Irish inheritance by the same valet and therefore preferred to have her own tune. Besides though she was often at odds with the Housekeeper, she didn't consider her one of her enemies.

* * *

After breakfast of a day with its own ups and downs Mrs Hughes proceeded with her inspections. She walked into the drawing room only to be engulfed in a massive cloud of smoke and a trembling kitchen maid peeking through it at the Housekeeper in mortal fear.

"Daisy for heaven's sake! It's a fire not a coal mine!" she shouted at the young kitchen maid but instantly regretted her tone when she saw the girl's lower lip begin to tremble and eyes fill with tears from behind her soot covered face.

"Where's the sheet?" Mrs Hughes asked in a milder tone, still maintaining a trace of her stern advising and commanding.

"I f… for… forgot Mrs Hughes…" Daisy stuttered.

"Get it here," Mrs Hughes asked in a gentler tone and Daisy scurried away and fetched the sheet from her many tools.

"Give me these two corner," Mrs Hughes took hold of two corners and helped the girl lay the sheet in front of the fireplace.

"Th… Thank you Mrs Hughes," Daisy mumbled trembling in fear afraid to look directly at the Housekeeper's eyes yet peeking at her.

"Don't let me catch you again!" she warned.

"Yes Mrs Hughes," Daisy nodded.

From the drawing room to the library and dining room and then Mrs Hughes was walking along the upstairs corridors, checking the work of the housemaids. The door of the nursery was ajar and she peeped through it. Lady Sybil, still in her nightgown, was standing on a stool by the window, her hands pressed against the pane watching the snow fall. Lady Mary and Lady Edith was fast asleep, it was nowhere near the usual waking hours for the girls. A rush of wind brought a few snowflakes towards the window and the little girl softly clapped her hands in excitement, but managing not to wake her sisters. With her little index finger she traced the path of isolated snowflakes melting against the glass of the window which was warmed by the fire crackling in the nursery.

Mrs Hughes smiled as the young girl leant forward to kiss a snow flake that just landed through glass of the window. She shook her head quite happily and walked on with the adorable image of the little girl by the window still playing in her mind.

"Elsie! Elsie!" her mother called to her from within the cottage. Still no answer from the girl and her mother walked towards the door mumbling in annoyance only to see the young girl standing in the ankle deep snow with her hands and stretched out and upwards along with her face towards the sky savouring snowflakes landing on her hands and face. Little drops of white already littering her auburn hair.

"Elspeth! Ye gonnae catch yer death out there!" her mother shouted but young Elsie didn't seem to take notice.

"Elspeth lass! Are ye out of yer mind?" her mother called out angrily.

"A wee moment Mam," Elsie replied, her eyes closed and the scarf around her neck at a jaunty angle. She heard the rustling of her mother's skirts grow distant as she shuffled towards the kitchen and for a minute or two young Elsie became Princess Elspeth, only till the drunken voice of her father slurring his words as he shouted out an old bawdy ballad to the night sky came drifting on wind from the road by the fence. And Elsie scurried inside, fear creeping up her heart in anticipation of anything ranging from bad to worse.

X x x x

**To be continued…**

**Thank you so much for your kind reviews! You make me so happy. And my apologies for the considerable delay. I rewrote this chapter several times in different settings till it felt alright to me. (But still not very sure about the outcome.) I'd love read your ideas on the story. Thank you! See you soon with a new chapter!**


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

"Telegram for her Ladyship!" a hall boy announced in the servant's hall. Only a few housemaids were at the table chatting and Miss O'Brien was in the attics looking for some fabrics, so Mrs Hughes stepped forward and took the telegram from the boy and headed upstairs, leaving her empty cup of tea in the kitchen. She searched in the library and the drawing room but no sign of Lady Grantham. Not even in her room, therefore Mrs Hughes walked to the nursery half expecting that she might be there. Even before she could reach the nursery door Lady Sybil burst out of it. Eyes wide and twinkling, hands in the air and a healthy rosy glow on her cheeks.

"It's snowing Mrs Hughes! Again!" the young girl exclaimed as she ran towards the Housekeeper and tugged her skirts leading her towards the large window on the corridor adjoining the nursery.

"I suppose it is," Elsie remarked as she let herself be dragged away by the seven year old.

"Look at that! It's beautiful!" the young girl whispered in amazement and surprise and Mrs Hughes gently touched her rosy cheek, watching the wonder in the young girl's eyes.

"Can you lift me up?" Sybil looked up at the Housekeeper.

"My poor old back," Mrs Hughes laughed, one hand on her hip.

"Please," Sybil smiled and batted her eyelids in an effort to coax the Housekeeper.

"Alright. Alright," Mrs Hughes bent down to lift Sybil up in her arms and secured the young girl against her waist as they watched the snow covered landscape together. A few snowflakes still dancing on the wind and settling on the grass.

"Do you like the snow Mrs Hughes?" Sybil asked expectantly. To the young it was simply impossible to imagine anyone who didn't like snow. Well, except Edith who complained about the lack of sunlight.

"Yes, I like the snow," Mrs Hughes replied smiling.

"Do you love the snow?" Sybil asked again.

"I don't know if I should go _that_ far," Mrs Hughes chuckled.

"Why?" Sybil asked again, slightly disappointed.

"You forget Milady that I'm from Scotland and the snow fall here is nothing compared to this. Would you like to walk with snow reaching above your knees?" Mrs Hughes replied and Sybil's expression changed from one of disappointment to amusement.

"I suppose not. But do you think you could love the Yorkshire snow?" Sybil inquired again, trying her best to coax the Housekeeper to love the snow as much as she did.

"I suppose I could. But when I was young I suppose I did love the snow," Mrs Hughes answered as she watched the trees sway in the wind and the snow blowing against the window.

Sybil placed her arm around Mrs Hughes' shoulder and settled her cheek against the Housekeeper's as they watched the snow and Mrs Hughes' lips burst into a beautiful smile as she felt the warmth of the young girl against her.

"Mrs Hughes?" the voice of Her Ladyship called from a few steps away and Elsie turned to face Lady Grantham who had an amused and rather surprised expression on her face.

"Milady," Mrs Hughes replied rather worried about having Lady Sybil in her arms, "there was a telegram for you."

"Oh… I was expecting one. Lady Sybil seems to enjoy getting in your way," Lady Grantham remarked as Sybil smiled shyly and began to scramble down from the Housekeeper's arms.

"I'm sorry Mama I wanted to see the snow," the young girl replied as her feet reached the ground.

"What have I told you about bothering Mrs Hughes?" Lady Grantham said amusedly but trying to act stern with her arms crossed. Sybil chose to smile instead of replying and Mrs Hughes handed the telegram to Lady Grantham.

"Do you love the snow too Mama?" Sybil asked her mother, while Cora was breaking the seal on the envelope.

"Yes, I suppose. I quite like it," Cora replied quickly scanning the contents. Mrs Hughes waited for any instructions and realising that her mother's attention was elsewhere Sybil started playing around Mrs Hughes' skirts. Tugging at one side and when the Housekeeper turned towards that side the young girl would scurry and tug from the other side. Mrs Hughes tried her best to hide the smile on her face from the Lady of the House while Sybil played around her. The mischievous young girl was certainly relishing the fact that Mrs Hughes could do no reprimanding in the presence of her mother.

"Mrs Hughes," Cora began giving the words a final look and Sybil instantly stopped her playing when her mother spoke up.

"Is there anything I can do Milady?" Mrs Hughes asked in her practised tone from several decades.

"Mr and Mrs James Crawley would be joining us for dinner and Master Patrick would be too. They'll stay the night. So I want you to prepare the Blue Room and the Red Room too just in case and arrange for Master Patrick to stay at the nursery," Lady Grantham instructed and Mrs Hughes quickly processed the instructions.

"The nursery and the Red Room can be arranged but I'm afraid the repairs on the Blue Room has not been finished yet, with several of the workmen falling ill," Mrs Hughes replied.

Lady Grantham thought for a moment. Mrs Hughes understanding clearly that Lady Grantham was finding it difficult to recall the floor plan prompted, "Would the Queen Caroline Room be feasible instead of the Blue Room?"

"Yes, of course. The Queen Caroline then," Cora agreed.

"Very well Milady. Will that be all Milady?"

"Yes. Thank you Mrs Hughes," Cora replied and Mrs Hughes nodded and turned to leave. Sybil by this point was at the window again standing on tip toes.

"And you Sybil, off you march," Cora said bent down and turned Sybil by her shoulders. And Mrs Hughes smiled as she heard the giggles of the two Ladies a few steps behind her.

* * *

"Who does she think she is, mothering around?" Mr Watson sneered as he sat down on the chair opposite of the one occupied by Miss O'Brien in the servants hall. It was empty except for the Lady's maid who was mending a hat of Her Ladyship's and Mrs Patmore and Anna who were reading through a catalogue. Anna seated at the table and Mrs Patmore standing behind her with a cup of tea in her hand. Hearing the valet's dramatic entrance with the nasty comment they all looked up rather surprised and very curious, except Miss O'Brien.

"Who's mothering who?" Miss O'Brien asked in a rather uninterested tone than expected by the valet, not even looking up from her work as she placed feather after feather against the ribbon of the hat trying to determine which suited better with its colour.

"Mrs Hughes mothering Lady Sybil around. The old spinster Housekeeper thinking she can pull back time mothering her employer's daughter," he laughed disrespectfully as he tossed his small button box on the table making a loud rattling noise.

"That's not very kind. Lady Sybil is just a child and Mrs Hughes is just being kind," Anna protested. She couldn't even begin to describe how disgusted she was by the valet. Everyone knew the valet hated the Housekeeper and had no hesitation in showing it but Anna couldn't think that any man could stoop so low.

"Oh yes, the Scottish saint who could do no wrong!" he laughed sarcastically.

"As if you're jolly Saint Nick," Mrs Patmore muttered loud enough for Mr Watson to hear. It was true that she herself was not very fond of the Housekeeper but she didn't hate her neither, she merely challenged her authority over the store cupboard key rather zealously. She would say they are enemies when she's absolutely incensed but the Cook saw no real substance to it. But no one unnerved her as much as the widely despised valet did. She had often wondered why His Lordship had employed this man for this long.

"Well I'll tell you, it'll be no time before the young lady is speaking that language of the heathens and if by God's grace she remembers any English it'll be in that frosty unintelligible accent. If that mothering goes on for long that is," he laughed wickedly satisfied of being able to fit in several insults aimed at the housekeeper into one sentence.

"Well, I don't know about that. But as far I know the only 'mothering' that _you_ are known to be doing is inside the last door of Codley's alley in Ripon for three shillings per quarter hour and only blondes never brunettes," Miss O'Brien spoke as she rose from her seat, Mr Watson's face red with embarrassment and Anna and Mrs Patmore with eyes wide open in surprise. Many knew that Codley's alley was famed for its brothels drawing in all sorts of men from all levels of the social ladder. "And the girls there say you were rather violent with _your sort of mothering_," the Lady's Maid finished with a wicked smile gracing her lips.

Mr Watson roughly rose from his seat making a very loud and careless noise as the chair scraped across the stone floor and walked out the hall as soon as possible muttering angrily under his breath, and the three women could hear the traces of several expletives.

"You are a dark horse Miss O'Brien. _How on earth _did you find that out?" Mrs Patmore asked genuinely curious. Miss O'Brien only smiled wickedly and left taking her things with her leaving Anna and Mrs Patmore to burst into peals of laughter.

"What has got into Mr Watson?" William asked entering the servant's hall.

"Never you mind m'boy," Mrs Patmore giggled as she exited to the kitchen, Anna following closely behind trying hard to suppress her laughter.

**To be continued...**

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**Notes: Codley's alley is a fictional place. **

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**Thank you so much for your reviews. They are truly an encouragement. And I'm sorry for the delay. Real life caught up ****a bit. But I'll try my best to post the next update as soon as possible. By the way, the trailer of movie is just amazing! September cannot come soon enough. Hope you liked this update. See you soon with the next chapter! **


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

It was the second week of November when the fever blew in with the cold winter winds. First down was Jane. She had complained of a headache for a day and finally came to Mrs Hughes who took in her pale face and sweat on her brow and quickly felt her forehead. It was burning against the cold hand of the Housekeeper and she was quickly sent to bed and the doctor was called. Even before the doctor had arrived Margaret, a kitchen maid, was brought in by Mrs Patmore to Mrs Hughes. The girl, much younger than Jane, was even weaker and was barely up on her feet. Followed by two other kitchen maids and one hall boy.

In the attics, in the bedroom that Anna and Jane shared, Mrs Hughes stood a few steps behind the doctor as he examined the sick girl. Finally Doctor Clarkson turned towards Mrs Hughes who awaited any instructions.

"Fever. It's spreading with the cold. Give her the medicine exactly on time. And keep her temperature down. It'll be much serious if it goes high, could even turn to pneumonia," Doctor Clarkson instructed Mrs Hughes as he took his bag from the small table by Jane's bed. Mrs Hughes held the door open as the Doctor turned to leave.

They had only taken a few steps down on the staircase when Anna came hurrying. Her face red and out of breath, and forced herself to stop in front of the Doctor and the Housekeeper. Her initial speed unsteadying her for a moment in her attempt to stop without slowing down.

"Anna?" Mrs Hughes asked, worried, as the young girl tried hard to catch her breath.

"It's His Lordship," Anna burst out in between deep breaths.

Mrs Hughes quickly gestured the way to the Doctor and Doctor Clarkson hurried in that direction, in the practised and efficient gait of a medical practitioner.

"And Anna inform Mr Carson," Mrs Hughes instructed Anna, turning her head as she walked away with the Doctor, Anna nodded and hurried downstairs.

Mrs Hughes waited patiently outside the closed door of His Lordship's dressing room. Her Ladyship was inside with the Doctor. With no one around on the corridor, Mrs Hughes' gaze was fixed far away and she was fiddling with her hands. Signs of impatience getting the better of her usually composed self. She understood from Doctor Clarkson's words that this fever spreads fast and she wondered where they would all stand by the end of the week and it was only just Tuesday, the week had only begun.

The click of the door knob brought Mrs Hughes back to attention and her hands neatly by her sides. Doctor Clarkson walked out with his usual serious demeanour and Mrs Hughes looked at him questioningly. Doctor Clarkson nodded understanding the question posed to him without words.

"But a bit on the serious side," he added, "let me know as soon as possible if there is any change."

"Yes Doctor," Mrs Hughes replied and started to lead the way. But Doctor Clarkson interrupted.

"I can see myself out Mrs Hughes. I'm sure you have a lot to do right now," he said politely and Mrs Hughes smiled at the Doctor's understanding words. She indeed had a lot to do. With the possibility of maids falling ill in the coming days probably like apples falling from trees, she'll certainly have a lot of weight to pull. And the possibility that the sickness was spreading upstairs among the Family meant the days ahead would be very long and trying ones.

* * *

Mrs Hughes came downstairs having spoken to Her Ladyship. Lady Grantham rarely gave any specific instructions to the Housekeeper in instances such as this for she knew that the efficient Housekeeper had a clear grasp of what needed to be done.

The jingle of the keys of her chatelaine followed by her steady and strong footsteps on the stone floor echoed across the silent corridor. Hearing the Housekeeper, Mrs Patmore wiped her hands on a piece of cloth and stepped out of the kitchen.

"Mrs Hughes," the Cook called out to the Housekeeper who was about to open the door of her sitting room. Mrs Hughes' mind which was well occupied with several matters descended back down to earth as she heard the Cook calling for her. She dropped her hand from the door knob and stepped in front of the Cook.

"How are they?" Mrs Patmore asked, her voice calm. Something rarely to be expected from the loud cook but three kitchen maids falling ill on one day could have been the cause behind it.

"It's a fever, the Doctor says so. Their temperature have to be kept as low as possible. Or else there is a fair risk of pneumonia. His Lordship has taken ill too," Mrs Hughes replied. They maybe rivals over some aspects of their authority but when it came to their charges they were soft hearted women. Mrs Patmore more like the loving but loud aunt with a dry sense of humour. Mrs Hughes more like the strict yet kind and loving mother with wise words and careful precautions.

"My my," Mrs Patmore sighed, "I wonder whether we'll be standing by the end of the week." Mrs Hughes smiled at the Cook's expression and walked back to her sitting room.

* * *

"The moon is smilin' at ye Becky. A bonnie wee smile," young Elsie whispered to her sister who was cuddling by her side. The younger girl's forehead was burning and a sheen of sweat covered it glistening in the pale moonlight that crept in through the small window and she was restlessly tossing and turning.

Elsie smoothed her hand upon Becky's hair, holding her close. The feverish warmth of the younger girl seeping through Elsie's side. An occasional whimper from the sick girl.

"D'ye ken why the moon's smilin'?" she asked in a whisper, only half expecting an answer which came in the form of a whimper and a squeezing of her hand by Becky.

"It's sayin' ye'll be fit as fiddle come mornin'. That's why it's smilin'. Ye gonnae get better Becky. Soon. So don't ye think o' givin' up lass," she stroked her fingers upon Becky's forehead wiping the sweat off her brow.

"Elsie," a weak whisper came from Becky followed by a whimper.

"I'm here Becky. By yer side lass. Always by yer side."

* * *

"Mrs Hughes! Mrs Hughes!" a series of sharp knocks on her bedroom door and Anna's desperate voice woke Mrs Hughes from her dream. For a moment she couldn't realise where she was. The moonlight lit up her small bedroom in a dim white light and Mrs Hughes found her bearings. She got out of bed as fast as she could. Wearing her housecoat she opened the door, one of her hands still going through the sleeve almost stuck in the middle. The fear in Anna's voice made her not want to lose a second more.

"We have to call the doctor. It's Nanny and the young ladies. The fever," Anna blurted out. She saw the lines of worry return to the Housekeeper's face.

"I'll wake Mr Carson. We have to get the chauffeur to bring the Doctor over," Mrs Hughes replied trying not to sound frantic.

She had to stay calm, as always, for everyone's sake.

**To be continued… **

* * *

**Thank you so much for all your kind reviews. A big thank you to all the guest reviewers whom I cannot thank personally. This update took a bit long and I'm sorry. A few things in real life caught up plus I rewrote this chapter twice. Anyway, thank you for your patience. Hope you like this chapter. See you soon with the next one! (And I will definitely try to update as soon as possible.)**


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

The half an hour that took the Doctor to arrive seemed like forever. The seconds passed idly and the minutes even more so, while everyone waited for the yellow lights of the car to appear on the driveway piercing the darkness. The night was alive and listening to the fear creeping into every heart and its darkest fangs reached out to the final shreds of patience in everyone's hearts, snapping them mercilessly and flooding fear.

Lady Grantham was in the nursery, kneeling by Lady Edith's bed and wiping her forehead with a wet cloth as the little girl whimpered in pain. Mrs Hughes, having given Sophie instructions to prepare a bed for Nanny in another room, was alternatively attending to Lady Mary and Lady Sybil. Anna stood by the door, clutching the door frame as hard as she could with one hand to give her some stability, waiting for any instructions in case of an emergency, the other fiddling with the loose button on her dressing gown. Mr Carson was near the front door, pacing while waiting for the doctor to arrive.

Lady Edith was whimpering. Lady Mary was more silent, only her warm body giving away her illness. Lady Sybil was in a feverish haze, mumbling and whimpering alternatively. Lady Grantham was growing frightened by the minute but Mrs Hughes tried to maintain an alert state of mind, trying not to dwell on the horrible memories of illness from her years on earth had shown her.

The front door creaked rather loudly and the hushed voices emerged. Anna left her post by the door and turned her head round the corner by the staircase to see what the voices were about. She quickly turned back, having made her observations and returned to the nursery.

"Doctor Clarkson is here," she announced but her voice faltering slightly on the final sounds to reach a somewhat higher pitch.

Mrs Hughes left the cloth that she was wringing by the bedside table and hurried outside, to stand in front of Anna. The young girl took a few steps back to allow the Housekeeper.

"Mrs Hughes," Doctor Clarkson gave a small nod to the Housekeeper and entered the nursery. Behind him Mr Carson stopped a few steps outside the door, on his face a very distressed expression.

"How are they?" he asked in a calm voice but his expression betraying his emotions.

"Lady Mary seems to be less ill compared to Lady Edith and Lady Sybil. It's a rather nasty case of flue, their foreheads were burning," Mrs Hughes replied, calm at first, but the second sentence carrying the hints of fear and distress.

"What should we do Mrs Hughes?" Anna asked leaning a bit towards the Housekeeper in order to keep her voice down. Her eyes wide open.

"All we've got to do now is wait, Anna. Wait for instructions," Mr Carson replied in a forced mechanical tone instead of Mrs Hughes.

Mrs Hughes looked back the young girl and her frightened expression. Without a word Mrs Hughes took Anna's hand in hers and squeezed tightly, reassuringly.

* * *

Doctor Clarkson stepped outside of the nursery leaving the door ajar and three pairs of expectant eyes, waited for him to speak.

"I've left the medicines inside. But what is important is that we keep their temperatures under control and make sure they are given mainly soups or broths to eat. Nothing that is hard to be digested. Mrs Hughes I hope you can see to that" he replied to the unvoiced question posed in all eyes, shifting his bag from one hand to the other and Mrs Hughes nodded.

Mr Carson proceeded to show Doctor Clarkson out. But the doctor turned back towards the Housekeeper and the housemaid who were still by the door.

"And also let me know at the slightest change," he added, looking over his shoulder.

"Yes Doctor," Mrs Hughes replied and sighed as she watched the receding forms of the Doctor and the Butler down the corridor.

* * *

With the events of the day turning from bad to worse, Mrs Hughes found herself unable to go to sleep. She sent Anna up to bed, firmly denying the girl's pleas to stay awake in case of an emergency, because she had to have her strength for the following day, which most probably was meant to be a long one. She asked Sophie to stay up at the nursery and warned the girl about falling asleep.

"Don't let me catch you falling asleep or you'll have no half days for the next two months," she warned the girl though she knew that she wouldn't be able to hold the resolve beyond a month even if she had to act upon her threats.

The blurred and dark images from the dream she had earlier before Anna woke her up played across her mind. She opened her eyes for a moment and closed them tightly shut trying with all her willpower to fall asleep for a few moments. But the images only gained clarity when her eyes were closed. A few drops of tears emerged from her half shut eyes and dribbled along her cheek to her pillow and a soft sigh escaped her, her whole body shuddering. Young people falling ill always brought her mind back to one place.

Becky. How she missed Becky? And one if something happens to Becky she'll be all alone in the world, she thought.

_What about Mr Carson? Charles Carson?_ A small voice whispered from the corners of her head. And she quickly brushed away that timid, expectant sliver of hope. No. No. No. They'll always be colleagues, co-workers. Friends perhaps, but nothing more. He'll forever remain in the shell of the Butler he had formed around himself. _But one day?_ The small voice spoke again. This time she shook her thoughts away even more ferociously.

Tonight was not a night for fantasies.

* * *

Elsie's eyes fluttered open. The room was still bathed in a soft silver light. She turned to the small clock by her bed side and narrowed her eyes to read the time in the darkness. A quarter of an hour to five. She flopped back on bed. The sudden awakening drained all sleep out of her. She felt tired after the very eventful night and the exhausting day before. Her eyes shut for a moment trying to claim the sleep that was robbed of her. But they failed. After and exhausted sigh she swung her legs out of bed. Now that sleep had shown very well its intention to avoid her, she might as well start her day.

* * *

Elsie walked through the corridor that led to the nursery. The early morning silence was hauntingly quiet and quite disturbing given the state that the occupants of the nursery were currently in. Elsie love the early hours of the mornings, when everything seemed new and the beautiful solitude echoed in every one of her bones. Unlike late nights when her mind took flight across lands of thoughts that would ache her heart and plague her eyes with involuntary tears shed at times along with sobs that she swallowed away trying to hide in the painfully quiet silence of the dying day facing the empty hours that separated the morning about to be born.

She took softer steps as she reached its door and peered inside. Sophie was half awake. Her eyes evidently engaged in a fearsome battle with sleep. Yet still managing to hold on, her will powered by a certain Housekeeper's solemn threats. Threats that Sophie knew were not to be taken lightly. Sensing the presence of someone, Sophie looked up to meet the eyes of Mrs Hughes. She opened her mouth to address Mrs Hughes but Mrs Hughes placed a finger against her lips eyeing the three sleeping girls and hearing their soft occasional soft whimpers. She beckoned Sophie to come outside.

Sophie rose to her feet and took a few uncertain steps, her stability still hindered by the sleep and awake state that she delicately hovered in. But was more alert by the time she reached the open door. She stood before Mrs Hughes, her slumped shoulders and tired sleeping speaking for her exhaustion.

"How are they?" Mrs Hughes asked, her voice a whisper.

"Lady Mary's fever is nearly broken. Lady Edith and Lady Sybil are still much the same. A bit calmer, I suppose," Sophie answered in a tired voice, that didn't need any more softening at all to meet the standards of a whisper.

Mrs Hughes was grateful that young girl had actually managed to stay alert, a feat which Sophie was usually unable to accomplish. The faint hints of a smile appeared on her smile, but Sophie did not notice.

"You have the morning off Sophie. Get some sleep m'lass," the Housekeeper said softly gently patting the young maid on the shoulder.

"Thank you Mrs Hughes," Sophie smiled and made her way towards the green baize door that separated the stairs from the corridor. Mrs Hughes watched the girl leave till she disappeared behind the closed door.

Her gaze settled on the three sick girls ahead of her. Worry tinted with the unexpected shades of affection flooded her expression as she walked inside checking on each one before she sat of the chair which was previously occupied by Sophie. To her side was a shelf which was filled with children's books. Her fingers fluttered across the spines of the books. She had read several of them much later than when they were expected to be read. The small village school didn't have much in the way of books. And she had to make the best of what was available. That was how Elsie Hughes became the excellent story teller that she was. A young farm girl spinning tales and speaking them under breath as she worked around the farm and walked back from school. And when the night embraced the skies and the stars shyly looked down below at the isolated Scottish farm, she retold those to her little sister and together they wandered across half mythical lands that were fashioned in her mind.

Lady Sybil stirred in her bed the little doll that she had clutched to her chest landed on the floor. Mrs Hughes rose from her chair and picked up the doll. She placed it next to the little girl whose eyes weakly fluttered open.

"Mrs Hughes?" she whispered.

"Yes, Milady. It's me," the Housekeeper replied as she ran her hand across Sybil's damp hair.

A smile, tinged with pain, lit up on the girl's face as she clutched the doll back against her chest and closed her eyes. Her heavy warm breathing pierced Elsie's skin through the material on the sleeve. Elsie ran her hand once more across Sybil's hair and returned to her chair. Her feelings paradoxical. Reassurance and fear in a delicate balance of power.

**To be continued…**

* * *

**I'm so sorry for taking this long to update, so here's a longer chapter as an apology. University has been getting in my way so often. Just two weeks more and I'll have lots of more free time to myself.** **Thank you so much for all your reviews on the last chapter! I'm glad you liked it. Writing this chapter was quite tricky but hope you like it. I'd appreciate any reviews on your ideas about this chapter and the story so far. See you soon with a new chapter! **


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

* * *

The dull light of the winter morning crept into the nursery like a sneaking child opening a forbidden door. A few idle birds chirped into the quiet winter air. Mrs Hughes began to replace the cold clothes put on the foreheads of the young ladies. She wrung out cold water and wiped their necks. Starting with Lady Sybil and then Lady Edith, she moved on to Lady Mary.

Just as she placed the cool cloth on Lady Mary's neck the young girl whimpered and started squirming.

"Diamond, no. I can't. I'll fall. Please. Please Diamond," she mumbled in her sleep. Elsie guessed that Lady Mary was dreaming possibly about that time when she fell off her horse and took a few bad bruises.

"Sshh… Milady," Elsie shushed trying to calm the young girl, "You're safe, Milady. You're at home," she whispered as she stroked the girl's forehead.

"Mama?" Lady Mary called out, still in her dream. A note of fear in her voice. Elsie couldn't help but pity the young girl before her. They may walk about like princesses in the making but they were girls after all.

"Everything will be alright Milady," Elsie ran her fingers through Lady Mary's dark hair and stroked her forehead. The girl calmed down and a deep sleep conquered her again, her breaths deep and slightly laboured.

A knock sounded on the door and Elsie looked up, her hand still holding the side of Lady Mary's head. Mr Carson stood at the door holding a tray, his eyes a mixture of surprise and affection. Seconds passed as he watched two of his favourite people together. Realising the awkward silence he cleared his throat.

"We missed you at breakfast," he said as he walked in and placed the tray on a table at the far corner of the nursery. "I brought you a tray, you must be hungry."

"You shouldn't have bothered yourself Mr Carson. You could have sent Anna up. Or Daisy," she replied as she watched him straighten to his full height having placed the tray down.

"No, it was not bother. Certainly not. We can't have you worn out after doing all this," he replied uneasily. He didn't like to appear too sentimental but he certainly couldn't go about his day without knowing that she was alright.

"Thank you," Elsie said, a smile gracing her face, touched at the Butler's concern for her.

"How are they?" he asked watching the three pale looking girls who were fast asleep.

"Steady. I think they might be alright by afternoon today," Mrs Hughes answered. "If it doesn't worsen," she added an afterthought, her face darkening even at the thought of the possibility.

"Is there anything else I could possibly get you?"

"Nothing for me Mr Carson. But could you tell Mrs Patmore to prepare some broth for the young ladies for their breakfast? And perhaps send Anna up? I need to tell her about today's duties but I'd hate to leave the young ladies alone," she answered with a slight smile and he nodded.

"It's frightening isn't it, when young people fall ill?" he asked, perhaps wondering aloud, his gaze still fixed on her.

Mrs Hughes looked at the three girls who were sleeping, their bodies drenched in sweat, "It is, and it doesn't help when one has seen one's fair share of unhappy conclusions surrounding those," she sighed. The moment she finished uttering that sentence she had slivers of regret piercing her mind. Would he think her too sentimental? Would he think she is not the strong person that she is?

"I'm sorry Mr Carson. I didn't mean to sound-," she began but he cut her off.

"No need to apologize Mrs Hughes. I suppose a bit of sentiment is allowed at a time like this," he argued but in an instance he regretted it. Would she think him to be unfeeling? Would she think he doesn't value anything in life about feelings and people? But his doubts had no time to find a firm place in his heart for she looked at him and gave a faint smile.

"After all we've seen a bit of life haven't we," he added as an afterthought and he noticed a tiny sparkle in her eyes that suggested that Mrs Hughes was regaining her fire back.

"You aren't trying to call me old, are ye Mrs Carson?" she asked playfully, her lips twitching at the corners.

"I didn't mean it that way, I just," he flustered and she cut him off.

"Because I daresay that is certainly not a gracious thing to say to any woman," Mrs Hughes retorted but her eyes betraying the suddenly mischievous and humorous turn of the conversation.

"I was only a complimenting your wisdom Mrs Hughes and I don't think that is hardly a reason for you to put me up the guillotine," Mr Carson replied in a defeated tone.

"I daresay that's too much of a foreign way for you to go Mr Carson," Mrs Hughes chuckled and instantly looked around to see if her unchecked laughter had woken any of the girls.

"Mrs Hughes!" in a stern tone was all he could manage to avoid the speechless state he was left in.

The cheerful note faded and Mrs Hughes sighed, turning her head away from the Butler. Mr Carson cleared his throat softly in an attempt to banish the awkward silence that settled in the air again.

"Mrs Hughes?" Mr Carson asked in much more concerned tone, worried by the dark and sad expression that began to haunt her face.

"I was… just away with the fairies Mr Carson," she gave a vague reply and Mr Carson decided to drop the subject. But it was clear to him. Something did come over her. Whatever it was he didn't know but something did. He would not mind knowing but he hated to pry. Mrs Hughes was after all very much her own person, quite like himself.

"I'll ask Anna up then and inform Mrs Patmore? I think Anna has already started her day. Will that be all Mrs Hughes?" he asked ending on a heavily professional note but with part of his heart aching at the sight of the odd mixture of fear and sorrow that suddenly tainted her rather ordinary disposition.

"Yes Mr Carson," she replied in an equally professional tone. Her shoulder even and high, her back straight. Ever the professional Housekeeper. But her eyes… she didn't know that they gave a glimpse of the clouds that darkened her skies. She watched Mr Carson close the door behind him and her head bowed.

* * *

"Becky ye canne leave me on my own lass," Elsie pleaded to her sister who was tossing and turning in bed.

"Elsie," Becky whispered, her half open eyes glistening in the feverish frenzy.

"Becky? I'm 'ere my dear," Elsie wiped her hand across her sister's forehead.

"Da dinnae want me," Becky replied, fresh tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

Elsie's heart ached. She couldn't deny that her father didn't like Becky. But to see that her sister had actually taken it to her head pained Elsie.

"But I need ye Becky. Elsie needs ye. Ma needs ye," Elsie said desperately in a pleading tone. No reply came and Elsie felt even more desperation filling her heart.

"Ye cannae leave me Becky. Listen here Becky Hughes ye willnae leave me alone! Ye cannae leave me all on my own! If ye leave me and go Becky Hughes I willnae forgive ye! I mean it, I willnae forgive ye Becky!" Elsie stormed out but her voice cracked at the end and she burst into tears, sobs wracking her whole body.

Becky's hand touched Elsie's. Elsie rarely cried. But when she cried it was since she was too tired of holding on to her feelings. And in her own way Becky knew it.

X x x x

Mrs Hughes woke up with a start, horrified that she had dozed off. It must be last night taking its toll on her, she concluded. She ran her fingers across her eyes to rub the sleep away. Looking around she saw the girls asleep, rather peacefully compared to last night.

A tap on the door, and Anna entered carrying a tray with three bowls of broth.

"Ah Anna, I was wondering whether Mr Carson didn't fulfil his role as the messenger," Mrs Hughes said with a smile and she took the empty tray from her breakfast and watched Anna settled the tray with the broth on the table.

"I was late because Mrs Patmore asked if I could take the tray up too. Spare another journey upstairs," Anna smiled. "I heard they were doing well."

"Rather well. Steady I would call it. No complications yet and I suppose the worst of it is over," Mrs Hughes replied looking over her shoulder at the girls.

"Jane was feeling a little better too and she wanted to start work but I insisted that she stayed in bed for the morning. Would that be alright Mrs Hughes?"

"It would be, yes. We can't have her falling ill again after being so weak. What about the rest of the day?" Mrs Hughes asked, pleased with the way Anna had worked so far without the Housekeeper's attention.

"I managed the library and the drawing room with Gwen. There is however something…" Anna lingered at the end the end of the sentence unsure how to finish.

"Anna?" the Housekeeper prompted.

"There's a wine stain on the carpet of the library," Anna revealed the source of her worry.

"A wine stain?" Mrs Hughes asked confused. "There wasn't anything when I went over last night."

"Apparently His Lordship had been in the library early today since he hadn't been able to sleep. He had accidently spilled the wine on the carpet," Anna observed a frustrated look occupy Mrs Hughes' face.

"You don't know how to take the stain off? Surely Anna you must know it by now! I can't go on telling you every day!" Mrs Hughes couldn't help the annoyed note in her voice that made Anna tense slightly.

"Well I do know. But it's the Persian one Mrs Hughes and I'm afraid… if anything goes wrong...?" Anna looked at Mrs Hughes with an expression of fear and a pleading note in her voice.

"Alright, I'll see to it. But Anna this is the last time!" Mrs Hughes warned! She knew Anna did have a good reason. Elsie herself didn't like dealing with that delicate carpet. Why on earth did Lord Grantham have to go wondering in the night when he was ill for heaven's sake! If she look into the stain herself it could give Anna a break from her hard morning while she stays at the nursery, Mrs Hughes thought. But something, something didn't feel right. Something most certainly didn't feel right but Elsie couldn't point a finger at what it was. Se mentally shook her head. It was just her being over anxious.

"Anna you'll stay in the nursery. And let me know at any change," Mrs Hughes instructed and Anna nodded. "And no falling asleep," she added feeling a bit of a hypocrite.

Anna watched Mrs Hughes walk out of the door mumbling something under her breath and by the tone of the mumbling Anna felt rather grateful that she didn't understand Gaelic or Scots.

**To be continued…**

* * *

**Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews! I'm sorry for taking so long to update. I had a couple of exams and now I've got vacation! And I'll probably be able to update regularly than usual. And a few facts… Scots and Gaelic are not the same thing. Scots is quite like the dialect of English spoken in Scotland and it sound a bit like English but it's actually considered to be a separate language than a dialect now. Gaelic was the language spoken in Scotland first in the 4****th**** and 5****th**** centuries and reached its peak in the 11****th**** century. So Scottish Gaelic and Scots are two different languages. Thanks for bearing that history lesson that wasn't asked for and see you soon with the next chapter! **


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

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"What do you mean no one is down yet," the Dowager Countess asked the poor footman who had let her in, in a very annoyed tone.

"The young ladies and His Lordship are having the fever Milady and Her Ladyship is with them," the young footman replied in a meek tone which indicated clearly that he was intimidated by the formidable matriarch. "If Your Ladyship would like to wait in the library, I could inform that you are here My Lady."

The Dowager Countess walked through the door that the footman had opened for her. Clearly they must have known she was visiting. She had informed them that last morning and it annoyed her when there was no proper welcoming party for her, especially after she was back from London after a month at Rosamund's.

Ever so gracefully she sat down on the large red sofa in the library, a critical pair of eyes running over every detail of the elegant room. Leaning her cane against the sofa, she ran a finger on the edges of the stool next to the sofa and inspected for any stray dust. Having found none she huffed. A curious sound broke her critical reverie. She looked around the room to find here the sound was coming from but for a moment she couldn't lay a finger on it, where it was coming from and what it was.

Realising that the sound was in fact coming from behind the sofa, Violet got up and took a turn around the arm of the sofa and she was in deed slightly amazed.

In front of her was the Housekeeper on her hands and knees scrubbing rather vigorously at a stain on the carpet rather oblivious to the world around her. Her brow was furrowed in concentration and her lips pursed as she gave the stain her full attention.

"Mrs Hughes?" the Dowager called and the Housekeeper looked behind over her shoulder and an expression of utter surprise invaded her earlier expression of severe concentration with a start and she quickly rose to her feet.

Reflexively she wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist and she stood to her full height, squaring her shoulders and retaining the quiet confidence that the Dowager didn't like very much but rather admired, in the reserved Scotswoman.

"Milady," she smiled her usual professional, tight lipped smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I've come to see the Family but no one is down yet so one of the footmen went up to relay my message," the Dowager replied eyeing the housekeeper from head to toe. She didn't particularly like the Housekeeper being Scottish, there was something foreign about it. But she did admire Mrs Hughes' skills and work ethic. "But I must say the Housekeeper scrubbing at a stain is not an everyday sight."

"Most of the senior housemaids are down with the fever and only Anna is up and about and she feared she wouldn't be able to handle the stain on her own," Mrs Hughes replied noticing the critical eye of the Dowager.

"Hmm," the Dowager hummed her approval. It's not often that one finds a Housekeeper who could go back, away from the desk job, and take actual matters into hand, she could give Mrs Hughes that. And it rather impressed her, though she wouldn't voice her approval very loud, given her initial disapproval at promoting the then Head Housemaid as Housekeeper.

"Mrs Hughes are the family very ill?" the Dowager asked with a bit of worry lacing her voice.

"I'm afraid so Your Ladyship. I was looking over the young ladies this morning since Nanny was ill too and they were rather poorly. They are recovering of course but quite slowly."

"Oh my! Then I better get my poor old bones out of this place. I'll not last a minute with a fever of that strength and at my age, Mrs Hughes, I can think of much comfortable ways of dying," the Dowager Countess finished with a light laugh, amused by her own wit.

Mrs Hughes only retained her usual, measured smile. She respected the Dowager Countess for her strength and her honourable nature but there were always times when the "old bat" would annoy her with the rather rigid words she spoke. Mr Carson on the other hand, she had noted, almost worshipped the ground that the old lady thread upon.

"Could you tell Lady Grantham that I've left?" the Dowager Countess requested as she walked back around to the sofa where she left the cane.

"Very well Milady," Mrs Hughes said gave a slight bow as the grand old lady walked out of the library in her gracious gait, regally holding onto her cane. The Housekeeper let her shoulders drop a little in relief. She would never admit it to Mr Carson but sometimes the "old bat" unsettled her.

* * *

Mrs Hughes, having finally gotten the stain off the carpet, let out a sigh of relief. This had been a trying day indeed and it had proved to her what her advancing years were doing to her knees. She placed a firm hand on the ground and was just rising to her feet when the sounds of someone running towards the library echoed on the corridor outside. Their footsteps coming as loud but muffled thuds on the thick carpet on the corridor.

Anna emerged from the door panting, a hand on her chest. Mrs Hughes throat constricted. Whatever could be wrong?

"What on earth girl?" Mrs Hughes asked, hints of fright taking over her. Anna's dishevelled appearance after her running and her red cheeks only adding to it.

"Mrs Hughes…" Anna tried to regain her breath that were now coming only in short and sharp bursts. "It's Lady Sybil…"

Mrs Hughes' whole body tensed. The fear in Anna's voice was clear. The ominous feeling from earlier in the morning returning. Her lips parted slightly while she watched Anna trying to regain her breath. Her patience did not last.

"For heaven's sake girl what is it?" she all but screamed at Anna but managed to tone it down to her usual angry housekeeper tone. It wouldn't do to frighten the poor girl.

"She's worse. I think… I think it's measles," Anna finally burst out relieved that's he was finally able to get it out. She took deep breaths, her hand still at her chest watching the emotions changing on the housekeeper's face like a dark ink mingling in a dish of clear water.

"Oh my God," was all Anna barely heard the Housekeeper whisper and Mrs Hughes rushed out of the library with quick steps that almost never touched the ground, her hands reaching behind her back and tugging at the knot on her apron.

**To be continued…**

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**Thank you so much for all your reviews! I'm so grateful! Writing the Dowager Countess was tough. Well… that is to be expected isn't it? See you soon with the next chapter! **


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

* * *

"Well, she's got a high temperature, a cold and she coughs quite a bit too. Besides the rash has started to show. Everything points at measles. It is measles," Doctor Clarkson said as he closed the clasp of his leather bag looking at Lady Grantham. "She'll need to be moved from nursery to avoid the others contracting it. I've left the medicines. There's not much we can do than let it heal steadily and observe carefully if it gets any worse and then act accordingly if it does."

"It will not be dangerous?" Lady Grantham asked, worry written completely and openly across her face.

"It can be. It is indeed quite a risk if it turns worse and it can spiral out of control if not attended to properly," Doctor Clarkson paused and studied Lady Grantham for a fraction of a second before he began again. "Lady Sybil will have to be looked after very attentively from hereon and by someone who had contracted the illness before. I assume that Your Ladyship has not contracted measles in your childhood."

"Indeed I have not. But would that be a requirement? To have contracted measles before in order to care for Lady Sybil?"

"The nature of measles is that it is contracted once in your lifetime in most cases. Thereafter one becomes immune to it and doesn't contract it again. Besides, a case of measles in an adult can be much dangerous than in a child."

Lady Grantham's knitted her eyebrows not sure what to do. With Nanny ill as well Cora couldn't get properly to her mind who else would suffice for the role. For a fleeting moment her mind switched between the various options available.

"Anna?" Lady Grantham asked the young housemaid who was gathering an armful of linens.

"I'm afraid I've not had it too Your Ladyship," she replied. She'd have gladly looked after the young lady but the circumstances were not in her favour and it left her with no choice.

Lady Grantham's face fell in an instance, not at all able to think straight about what she could do. She wouldn't entrust Sybil's care to anyone who is not trust worthy and responsible.

"Milady I… I have had measles when I was young," Mrs Hughes added from where she stood by the door of the nursery. As a young lass she caught a very bad case of measles and struggled several days and it was weeks when she was properly up on her feet.

Lady Grantham felt a glimmer of hope. Mrs Hughes would be perfect for the task. The Housekeeper was loyal, responsible and careful. Above all, Lady Grantham herself knew how much the Housekeeper cared for Sybil. But with many of the staff ill, Lady Grantham was not sure whether she could impose further on the Housekeeper.

"That would be wonderful, Mrs Hughes. But… you're sure you'll be able to manage? What with most of the maids sick as well?"

"I will be able to manage, Your Ladyship," Mrs Hughes confirmed. A hint of a pained smile on her lips.

"I could help with Mrs Hughes with her other duties," Anna added and then looked at Mrs Hughes. "If Mrs Hughes wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all," Mrs Hughes nodded. She was more than sure of Anna's ability to handle responsibilities and it'll be only minor tasks that the housemaid would have to do extra.

"Well that's settled then," Lady Grantham allowed herself a smile, finally relieved.

"And Mrs Hughes, the slightest change is vital," Doctor Clarkson commented and Mrs Hughes nodded in agreement and in confirmation of adhering to his warning.

"Lady Grantham," the doctor bowed and turned to leave. Mrs Hughes turned to follow but Doctor Clarkson resisted. "I can see myself out Mrs Hughes. I'm sure you're needed here." He nodded and turned back again to see Lady Grantham turned towards the bed. Facing Mrs Hughes he whispered, "Beannachd leat" and smiled as he turned to leave as Mrs Hughes smiled back and nodded in acknowledgement of his encouragement.

* * *

Mrs Hughes held the book in her hand but her mind was not properly focused. Her eyes ran over the dark black letters upon the yellowed page but they were just letters to her. Words that didn't make sense. Words that she couldn't get herself to understand. Words upon which the candle flame ran across like a child playing. Flickering quickly. Then slowly. Her gaze drifted to the sleeping child.

Lady Sybil was moved to a guest room quite far from the library. Mrs Hughes had carried the little girl a floor away from the nursery, face buried in Mrs Hughes' neck and the feverish warmth burning again the Housekeeper's cheek and through her dress. The sweat on the girl's brow leaving a few wet droplets upon the dark material of her uniform.

Anna had waited by the door while Mrs Hughes fetched her nightgown and her dressing gown and several other things she needed for the night along with the latest book she had borrowed from the library. She had given Lady Sybil the medicine according to Doctor Clarkson's instructions and had reported to Lady Grantham that Lady Sybil's condition was stable when the grand lady of the house stood outside the door wringing her hands nervously. The trust she had placed in Mrs Hughes was very clear.

Night came quickly that winter's day. Creeping softly and swiftly as if it was afraid to wake the sleeping child with its usual display. The sun gave way to the moon that night, in whispers. No great gushes of wind howling across the evening sky. And the good doctor's medicines had lulled the young girl into a dreamless sleep. Occasionally she would mumble in her sleep and toss a bit, making Mrs Hughes wonder what might be running across the young girl's feverish mind.

Rising from her seat, Mrs Hughes placed the book down her chair and moved close to the bedside table where a basin of cool water and a cloth was placed. Wringing out the cloth she dabbed the cloth upon Lady Sybil's brow, gently wiping the sweat off her forehead and chest, where the rash had appeared, but not in its full force that Elsie had seen at times.

The sleeping child had her eyebrows knitted together in an emotion Elsie couldn't read. Pain possibly. But something a bit more than that, making Elsie wonder if the young girl was sad, in her no man's land of reality and feverish fantasy.

Becky never caught measles. Elsie had heard her mother say that it would had been the death of the "poor little fool" if she had indeed caught it. Elsie hated that name. What was bestowed upon Becky was a poor fate but she was no fool. She was like a flower, her Becky. Delicate yet beautiful. But Elsie knew that her mother didn't intend any malice when she used those words to refer to the sweet girl who would laugh through a funeral making eyes turn towards her in wonder or cry when she was given sweets by a villager. But her father… her father spoke those words with a vengeance towards the little girl who never asked to be born that way. On nights when the whiskey ruled his body and spread its reign in his mind, "poor" would be replaced by "wretched" or "cursed" which made Elsie learn the depth of her fiery temper when her blood boiled in her still very young veins.

A loud bout of pained coughing from Lady Sybil brought Mrs Hughes back to the present. She sat down on the side of the bed and gently held the girl, raising her slightly till she got over the cough. Mrs Hughes poured a lukewarm glass of water from the jug, she placed it on the bedside table and tried to wake Lady Sybil.

"Milady?" she stroked the girl's head. When the girl stirred a bit she called a bit louder. "Milady?"

Sybil's eyelids fluttered and she looked up at the housekeeper, sleep still blurring her vision.

"Mrs Hughes, is it you?" she whispered in a voice which reflected both her fatigue and her half awakened state. In an instant she started coughing again.

Mrs Hughes raised the girl a little bit more, rested her small body against hers and patted the girl's back. When it was over she wiped the tears off the girl's face with her fingers.

"It is me Milady. Now could you drink a little water? That'll ease the cough for a moment," the Housekeeper said placing the glass on the girl's lips and titling it. Sybil took a few sips and pulled away.

"A little bit more?" Mrs Hughes coaxed and this time Sybil took several more sips. When she pulled away from the glass, Mrs Hughes leaned down towards the bedside table and placed the glass upon it, with Lady Sybil still resting against her side.

"Am I… very ill?" Lady Sybil asked in a voice barely more than a whisper occasionally pausing to take deep breaths.

"You are quite ill Milady. But you'll be alright," Mrs Hughes said as she ran her fingers through Lady Sybil's damp hair.

"Promise?" Sybil whimpered.

"Promise," Mrs Hughes answered with a smile caressing the little girl's cheek. She was about to lay the little girl back on her pillow when Sybil tugged at the Housekeeper's dressing gown with her little fists, as hard as she could in her weakened state.

"Stay with me… Mrs Hughes… Please?" the young girl pleaded, her glazed eyes wide and begging.

Mrs Hughes could not find herself capable of refusing when she stared into the wide blue eyes of the young girl, now appearing rather misty. She nodded and settled herself against the headboard into a more comfortable position not knowing for how long she would have to stay that way. _Propriety be damned!_ Mrs Hughes thoughtwhen she saw the closed the eyes and deep rising and falling of the girl's chest in her heavy breathing. When she had finally settled, Sybil scooted close to the Housekeeper and snuggled against her. One of her hands against Mrs Hughes' side and the other on her lap upon her dressing gown. Mrs Hughes reached one arm around the girl and gently held her close, occasionally caressing Lady Sybil's back in long slow strokes.

Elsie's breath got caught in her throat when the young girl snuggled impossibly close to her again, the hand on her lap moving slightly higher from its former position, Lady Sybil rather unaware of it. After a few more moments, Sybil opened her eyes again and looked up at the Housekeeper.

"I'm scared," she whispered, shuddering a little and Mrs Hughes tightened her hold around Lady Sybil.

"I'm with ye wee lassie. I'm not leavin' ye," Mrs Hughes replied, her brogue thickening and her lilting accent sharpening without her notice. "And don't ye get scared. Everythin' is gonnae get alricht!"

This time, Sybil smiled and gave a nod before closing her eyes again. Knowing that with Mrs Hughes close to her everything was going to be alright. _Her Mrs Hughes could make everything alright. Isn't that what she did every day? Putting things right?_

With Sybil's breathing returning to a rather steady and heavy pace, save for the occasional change in rhythm when the cold bubbled a bit in her heart, a feeling that she's rarely felt came upon Elsie. A soft feeling that she had forgotten over time. A feeling she had remembered to forget. Elsie didn't feel the corners of her mouth form into a smile, nor did her eyes sparkle in the dull light of the room. But the night watched the emotions play upon the normally stern face of the Housekeeper.

The big house was quiet around them, mirroring the sensation of the entire world coming to a halt. Everything standing still. The winter night watching with wide, soft eyes at the two of them, moving softly around them outside the window like in a fairy tale, like in one of those tales that Elsie spun for her sister where the little princess became a snow flake to fly around the sky freely. Becky had asked Elsie what happened to the princess when spring came. Elsie had to think for a moment, unprepared for that sudden question. She remembered how she told her sister that when spring came the snowflake princess went to live forever in the clouds.

Forever. A magical answer.

The promise of a happy ending.

Sybil tossed and turned again. This time clutching Mrs Hughes' dressing gown hard. Her breath coming in short bursts along with mumbled words. A nightmare, Mrs Hughes guessed.

"Shhh lass. You're safe, mo nighean bheag," Elsie whispered and within a few seconds Sybil settled down again. Mrs Hughes knew that it was a long night, perhaps a few long days ahead of them.

A lost folk song that she had always loved sprang into Elsie's mind. Her grandmother had sung it to her often. And sometimes her mother did, days when the rain fell in good time and the sun shone in good time and when her father's breath reeked little of cheap whiskey. Days when her mother didn't have to cry over another lost wee babe that never saw light beyond its mother's womb. Days when her father didn't raise his hands against her. And Elsie in turn sang it to her little sister. On lonely nights when even the wind was sad, or in the evenings watching the cows being herded back home as the sun too was slowly headed to its own home. A song that she had never sung to another after she left Scotland behind her. A song of which the tune that had only lulled herself to sleep amidst tears.

A song about coming home. A song of a girl pleading to the water-horse to return her to her home. Maybe that is why she always loved it. Coming home. Home. But for her, home was no longer among fields littered with thistles and brown, hairy cows but among the dark passages of the Abbey and the winding paths through Downton village where the trees formed a green canopy and wild Yorkshire roses smiled.

Elsie's lilting voice floated through the night as she sang to the sleeping girl. Her soft voice calming the sick girl who snuggled even more close to the Housekeeper unconsciously, her warm breath tickling Elsie as she sang her song to another for the first time in several years. A stray tear rolled down from the corner of her eye, lingering for a moment at the edge of her jaw pleading that it couldn't part, before it fell down upon the brown material of her dressing gown, darkening a tiny spot.

The lonely tear not managing to erase the smile from her lips.

* * *

A ghaoil, leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi;

A ghràidh, leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi;

A ghaoil, leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi -

An tòir chrodh-laoigh a thàine mi.

Gur ann a-raoir a chuala mi

Mo ghaol a bhith ri buachailleachd,

'S ged fhuair thu 'n iomall na buaile mi,

A ghaoil, leig dhachaigh mar fhuair thu mi.

'S mi dìreadh ris na gàrraidhean,

'S a' teàrnadh ris na fàirichean,

Gun d' thachair fleasgach bàigheil rium,

'S cha d' dh' fheuch e bonn ga chàirdeis rium.

Ged bheireadh tu crodh agus caoraich dhomh,

Ged bheireadh tu eachaibh air thaodaibh dhomh,

Ged bheireadh tu sin agus daoine dhomh,

A ghaoil, leig dhachaigh mar fhuair thu mi…

Trodaidh m' athair 's mo mhàthair riut,

Trodaidh mo chinneadh 's mo chàirdean riut,

Ach marbhaidh mo thriùir bhràithrean thu

Mura tèid mi dhachaigh mar thàine mi.

Gheall mo mhàthair gùn thoirt dhomh,

Gheall i ribean a b' ùire dhomh,

Is gheall i breacan ùr thoirt dhomh

Ma thèid mi dhachaigh mar fhuair thu mi

_Translation:_

_Love, let me home to my mother Love, let me home to my mother Darling, let me home to my mother Love, let me home to my mother I only came for the cattle. _

_It was only last night That I heard that my love was herding And though you found me at the perimeter of the cattle fold Love, let me home as you found me. _

_I was clambering up the dykes And descending the ridges When a friendly lad met me And he did not enforce his friendship on me. _

_Though you were to give me cattle and sheep Though you were to give me tethered horses Though you were to give me that and men Love, let me home as you found me. _

_My mother and father will chastise you My clan and my relatives will chastise you But my three brothers will kill you If I don't return home as I came. _

_My mother promised me a gown Decorated with the newest of ribbons And she promised me a new plaid If I return home the way you found me._

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**Notes:**

**Mo nighean bheag :- my little girl**

**beannachd leat :- good luck **

**(entirely out of Google translate)**

**The song mentioned is a Scottish Gaelic folk song and a version sung by Julie Fowlis is available on YouTube. The lyrics and the translation are from the comments section of the video and they tallied very closely with a version that I found on Google so I included the former in the story. ****In this song a young girl pleads with the water-horse to return her to her mother. She met this mythological creature, common in the Gaelic tradition, at the edge of the cattle fold and now begs him to return her as she was.**

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**Thank you so much for all reviews on the last chapter of this story! They are a great encouragement, truly. And I'm sorry for the delay on updating this chapter. Getting this chapter together was rather hard and real life intervened a bit too. Hopefully, I will try to update the next chapter as soon as possible. I'd love to read your ideas on this chapter and the story so far. They are very appreciated very much! See you soon with a new chapter! **


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

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"Now, now Milady I wish you would stay still," Mrs Hughes said as she made Sybil's hair, the task stretching way beyond the time it required due to Sybil's inability to stay still.

"I'm so excited! I've been so fed up with staying in bed!" Sybil protested wiggling her shoulders and extracting a sigh from the exasperated Housekeeper whose neat work was ruined once more.

"Well, if you keep this up any longer I doubt you'll be able to leave for about an hour more," Mrs Hughes countered adding a hint of exaggeration to get the girl to stay still, which worked at last.

"There," Mrs Hughes sighed as she tied the light blue ribbon on Sybil's hair. Sybil turned to face the Housekeeper who checked if the appearance of the young lady was without any flaws.

"There you are. Perfect," Mrs Hughes commented and Sybil beamed. Sybil skipped to the long mirror at the end of the room and admired her dress, turning to this side and that and Mrs Hughes watched the excited young girl from her chair.

With a knock on the door Lady Grantham entered the room and Mrs Hughes instantly stood up.

"Good morning Mrs Hughes," Lady Grantham smiled and Sybil turned around to her mother with a smile.

"Good morning Your Ladyship," Mrs Hughes smiled accompanied with a slight nod.

"Sybil darling, how are you today?" Cora asked as Sybil rushed to her hands behind her back.

"Much better," Sybil replied speaking to the reflection of her mother on the mirror. Then she turned with a brilliant smile, her hands clasped behind her back.

"Mary and Edith are in the nursery," Cora said but realising that Sybil was not impressed she added, "There's chocolate cookies that Mrs Patmore made just for you."

The instant the words were out of Cora's mouth Sybil dashed out of the room, all manners forgotten at the prospect of chocolate cookies.

"And no running Sybil darling," Cora called out turning her head towards the door, but Sybil was far beyond the door to hear her mother's words and far too excited.

Cora turned back to Mrs Hughes who stood with a small smile playing upon her lips, carefully trimmed by her years of practised effort to look professional.

"And I have no idea how to thank you Mrs Hughes. Thank you so much," Cora smiled affectionately at the Housekeeper who returned a much brighter smile than before.

"I am glad to be of help Your Ladyship," came Mrs Hughes' formal reply.

"I mean it Mrs Hughes. I doubt I would have trusted my daughter's health and safety with any others. And if I am to speak plainly," Cora paused and at Mrs Hughes' slight answering nod she began again. "If I am to speak plainly I know Lady Sybil is fond of you and you of her." Cora watched a tenderness creep into the blue depths of the Housekeeper's eyes. A tenderness that only perhaps a mother would notice.

"I hope she hasn't troubled you?" Cora asked breaking the moment's silence, guessing that the sensible Housekeeper would not be comfortable with open emotions on the surface, something that never really bothered Cora. But after all like Robert often said and so did Violet, she was American.

"Not at all your Ladyship… on the contrary I rather enjoyed it," Mrs Hughes replied, "I'm sorry if that sounded rather… selfish perhaps."

"Not at all dear Mrs Hughes. And I think you could do with some rest after all these days… and nights," Cora added noticing the dark circles beneath the Housekeeper's eyes.

Mrs Hughes nodded and watched Lady Grantham leave. Perhaps she could do with some rest. But she knew she couldn't rest without knowing what sort of chaos had erupted downstairs in her absence. Mr Carson occasionally gave her reports of minor domestic matters over the past few days and so did Anna, but knowing both of them Mrs Hughes had to see for herself. And then, she would rest.

* * *

Hearing the familiar sound of the keys jingling on the Housekeeper's chatelaine, a sound lost during the past few days, Mrs Patmore looked up from her work and strained her ears to hear if she had mistaken the sound. But the sound of the keys accompanied by the strong and steady footsteps confirmed the return of "Mary Queen of Scots" and Mrs Patmore suspected she was back to reclaim what was hers.

Mrs Hughes walked into the kitchen, her usual stern expression upon her face, but the trace of a smile upon her lips.

"Oh it surprises me to hear meself speak it, but we have missed you downstairs," Mrs Patmore commented, even though she herself didn't know if the sentiment of that feeling of was actually felt by her.

"Key?" Mrs Hughes requested in a stone cold voice.

Mrs Patmore looked straight at the Housekeeper, stunned for a moment by the Housekeeper's straightforward request. Her hopes of using the emergency of the last few days as an excuse to keeping the store cupboard key to herself afterwards quickly vanishing.

"What?" was all the Cook could manage.

"The key, Mrs Patmore?"

Finally Mrs Patmore returned to her true senses, "Bloody hell, you don't miss a thing, do you?"

Mrs Hughes raised an eyebrow but kept her expression static.

"Alright here you go," Mrs Patmore said as she fished through her pocket for the store cupboard key and handed it to the Housekeeper, "You thought I was going to keep it for meself, didn't you?"

"Well, wasn't that what you were hoping to do?" Mrs Hughes left the kitchen with a faintly malicious yet contented smirk.

"Bloody. Mary. Queen. Of. Scots," Mrs Patmore muttered under her breath, giving her dough an extremely hard knead at each pause, in an effort to forget her disappointment at her failed plans.

* * *

Mr Carson was walking down the corridor downstairs and he passed the Housekeeper's sitting room. Noticing that the door was open he took a few steps back and peered inside. Noticing the familiar image of Mrs Hughes at her desk, he entered.

"It's good to have you back," he said and Mrs Hughes looked up from her paper work.

"As I am," Mrs Hughes answered and turned around completely to face Mr Carson who sat down on his usual place at the small table.

"Don't tell me you don't miss those few days, away from all this," he said as he gestured with no specific direction at the bustling sounds of below stairs.

"Well, I did enjoy keeping Lady Sybil company but not so much keeping a child with measles company," she answered but noticing the confused expression on his face she shook her head lightly and added. "Measles can be a rather tricky disease Mr Carson, it takes one symptom read wrong to go much worse."

"Oh," was all Mr Carson could say. He had seen his fair share of illness during his life but he wasn't really ready to discuss them nor did he take being ill very well. Typical male quality, he thought.

"I hope there wasn't any catastrophe's while I was occupied elsewhere?" Mrs Hughes asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'd say nothing major," Mr Carson replied, trying to hide the fact that they were a mess downstairs and at the servery without her.

Mrs Hughes narrowed her eyes at the mildly flustering Butler. He was a terrible liar. And he probably didn't know the details that she was able to trick out of Anna about courses being late and broken serving dishes, but she let it rest. She really didn't have the energy to get into major arguments.

Mr Carson noticed how the Housekeeper's eyes narrowed and realised that she knew more than she let on but he was relieved when she seemed as if she was not willing to proceed any further with whatever information that she possessed.

"We've missed you," he said after a moment's silence but noticing her disbelieving look he altered his words. "I've missed you."

"Or are you trying to cover up any guilt about you feeling relieved that I wasn't around to interfere and annoy you?" Mrs Hughes asked, part of her knowing that this was not true, but allowing that dark area in her mind to plant a seed of doubt.

"Really Mrs Hughes? I thought you knew me better than that!" he retorted with a frown.

"One can imagine," she argued a ray of hope blinking in her heart.

"Of course I missed… our evening sherry," he replied, managing to stop himself from uttering "your presence."

"You aren't guilty of having the sherry by yourself?" Mrs Hughes chuckled.

"I may have imbibed in the odd glass or two," he began, feeling warmth rush to his cheeks, his fingers toying with each other without his notice. "But it was not the same without sharing it."

"Mrs Patmore would have been glad of a glass," Mrs Hughes added in an effort to hide the blush she felt rising in her cheeks with diverting remarks.

"I wouldn't want any uncalled for disasters that are usually associated with Mrs Patmore and alcohol," Mr Carson chuckled. "Besides it isn't the same." He decided to stop it there without adding 'without you' at the end.

"Tonight then? Revive the custom after the short break?" Mrs Hughes smiled. The playful expression from the banter earlier vanishing as the shape of her lips forming a light smile in contrast to the amused look from earlier.

"Tonight," Mr Carson nodded in agreement with rather cheerful smile adorning his face as he walked out of the room.

Mrs Hughes turned back to face her desk but felt her herself unable of stopping the growing wide smile on her face. She shook her head and looked down back at her paper work. The smile still fluttering across her face, two dainty sparks dancing in her eyes.

**To be continued...**

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**Thank you so much for your kind reviews on the previous chapter. And my apologies for not being able to update earlier. Real life intervened quite a lot : ) I am truly grateful to all those who read story and also for those who left reviews. You all are a great big encouragement! See you soon with the next chapter. **

**Also this was pre-war times when Mrs Patmore and Mrs Hughes were not the best of friends and were squabbling over the store cupboard key. **

**P.S. Also I got some messages requesting the YouTube link to the song in the previous chapter so here it is.**

** /JOu0qORSDK0**


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

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**December 1901**

"I suppose it'll not be long before Jane hands in her notice," Mrs Hughes remarked as she sipped her tea and with her other hand crossed out a long line of details she had noted down in one of her lists. A frown played upon her face for a moment and quickly dissolved as soon as the sound of the pen scratching upon the paper disappeared.

"And why may that be?" Mr Carson asked rather absentmindedly, his eyes still focused upon the page of the book he was reading, seated in his usual chair next to the little table in the Housekeeper's sitting room. A tea cup, almost untouched, growing cold upon the table by his side.

"She's been rather impatient for her half days. And as always, there's a young man from the village who is rather keen on her. And I daresay she is keen about his attentions to her," she replied, watching him from the corner of her eye.

"What?" He shot his head up from the book, an eyebrow raised. "How could you possibly know?"

"I daresay Mr Carson there's a lot of things that go on down here that you fail to notice at times," Mrs Hughes answered looking at the surprised Butler for a moment and looked down back at her paper to avoid a bout of giggles escaping her due his ridiculous expression. She wondered if he ever realised that at times his expressions were terribly overly dramatic. "Besides I saw them in the village."

Her composure in relaying this tit bit of information rather surprised Mr Carson. How could she possibly be calm at the prospect of a housemaid misbehaving? Besides it annoyed him to know that there were things that went on under this roof that he was unaware of.

"When? How? What did you see?" he burst out in one breath and she let out a low laugh.

"That is a long string of questions Mr Carson. I must ask, how did you manage to say it all so fast?" she asked, faking an expression of curiosity deliberately to tease Mr Carson.

"That doesn't answer my question," he stated firmly and let the book down on the table with a rather loud thud as if to emphasise his point.

"_Questions _you mean?" Mrs Hughes bit down on her bottom lip to stifle any giggles.

Mr Carson's expression erupted into a frown and Mrs Hughes let out an exasperated sigh and she let the pen down the table with an unintended effort but the tip knocking on the ink pot let out a loud clink, in what seemed to be a matching retort against the thud earlier.

"Why do you always have to get so wound up about matters?" she asked, now turning to face him fully.

"Well… you aren't exactly helping it either," he pointed his hand in her general direction, his annoyance from earlier disappearing as the truth from her statement slowly dawned upon him, even though he would never admit it and in turn making him angry again.

"I was going down to the village to get some candid peel for Mrs Patmore—,"

"Why would she need candied peel?"

"For the pudding the day before yesterday. So when—,"

"Wasn't it mentioned in the grocery list?"

"Apparently she's forgotten it! _As usual!_ And was blaming me. So when I went down—,"

"In this weather? Surely Mrs Hughes you could have sent a hall boy or a footman?" he regretted his continuous interruption of her statements the moment he saw her expression change into what forecasted a possible losing of her legendary temper.

"I see you're not interested to listen to what I've got to say _at your request_, mind you. Seems you're more interested in the household _crisis_, which I wouldn't even want to call a crisis, which had already been resolved two days ago. And before you start to worry, the family are all well and fine. I got back in time with the blessed candied peel, so none of them were indisposed or ill!" Mrs Hughes burst out with a huff and turned back to her paperwork in with an almighty swing of her chair which gave the keys on her chatelaine a violent jangle.

Mr Carson sat still in his chair, shaken rather heavily by the fine sample of Scottish temper that he had been subject to, wondering more about what he ought to do or say next without risking his very life.

"Mrs Hughes, I certainly did not like that tone you took with me. I was merely inquiring after a matter of this household, which I believe is one of my concerns!" he protested finally, having regained his sense of stability after a moment.

"The household maybe, but don't let Mrs Patmore hear you saying that the kitchen is your territory to be concerned with. To begin with you'll be 'lucky if you only end up in tonight's soup' so to say," Mrs Hughes said quoting one of the famous lines of the Cook, still not facing the Butler.

Mr Carson cleared his throat. It certainly didn't seem to take him anywhere but close to trouble. The prospect of getting both women who worked alongside him in similarly senior positions, both whose tempers were undeniably frightful, was something he truly dreaded.

The silence that settled over them was broken when a knock sounded on the Housekeeper's sitting room.

"Yes?" came the Housekeeper's reply to the knock.

The door opened a tiny bit and Lady Sybil peered inside, only her nose and one eye clearly visible through the small space. Mrs Hughes turned to face the door, her eyebrows gradually taking the shape of a frown, annoyed that whoever who demanded her attention were not making themselves known. Mr Carson turned in his chair too to face the door. Sybil slowly took one step inside. Mr Carson turned back to his initial position, just time to witness Mrs Hughes' frown ease and her face bursting into a light smile at the sight of the little girl. Mr Carson felt his throat tightened and the feeling of his stomach flipping invaded him as he watched the tender look on the Housekeeper's face. The hard line on his own face from their own argument earlier, eased.

"Lady Sybil? What are you doing down here?" Mrs Hughes began gently began softly and then proceeded to ask sternly, "where is Nanny and does she know you are here? Don't tell me you've sneaked out of the nursery again! This time I will most definitely inform her Ladyship!"

"Nanny brought me downstairs," Sybil replied with a wide smile. A certain glint of mischievousness in her eyes.

"And where is she now?" Mrs Hughes raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly to the side, her lips pursed. An expression so curiously unlike the usual Mrs Hughes that Mr Carson almost burst into a fit of childish giggles.

"She insisted that she stay… but… well… I told her that I'd be a few moments and… that you wouldn't mind bringing me back upstairs," Sybil answered, her gaze fixed on the floor where she drew circles on the stone floor with the tip of her shoe.

"You wouldn't mind, would you?" the little girl asked, looking back up at the Housekeeper, sporting the puppy dog eyes to which she knew the Housekeeper would certainly not say no to.

"What is it now?" Mrs Hughes asked entirely good-naturedly now. The smile from earlier now freely glowing upon her face.

"Shall I leave you both to it?" Mr Carson asked straightening himself in his chair in preparation to leave. Though he would have loved, or in fact would have given anything, to watch this exchange between the Housekeeper and the little Lady unfold, he felt that his presence in this delicate moment would make Mrs Hughes feel uncomfortable.

"No I don't mind actually. Not if Mrs Hughes doesn't. In fact I'd like you to stay. Perhaps Carson may have a few ideas as well. This is a quite important matter after all," Lady Sybil replied and stepped towards Mrs Hughes' chair. Placing her hand upon the arm of the chair, Lady Sybil lifted herself up to Mrs Hughes lap. Wiggling about, she made herself comfortable and finally settled her back against Mrs Hughes' chest as the Housekeeper held her hands awkwardly in the air till Sybil had settled.

Mr Carson chuckled at how the young girl settled herself on the Housekeeper's lap without any invitation. And he keenly noticed the sudden change in the Housekeeper's demeanour with the young girl's presence. She didn't seem to mind the familiarity that was reflected in the young girl's actions and it rather surprised him a bit.

Sybil twisted her neck a little to look up at Mrs Hughes and asked, "You don't mind Mr Carson staying, do you Mrs Hughes?"

"No. I don't mind," Mrs Hughes replied softly, not entirely sure of her answer.

"I have actually a favour to ask Mrs Hughes and I wouldn't mind Carson's opinion on it too," Sybil stated in a matter-of-fact voice, exuding more authority than her age demanded, yet in no demanding or disrespectful way, which amused both the Housekeeper and the Butler. Especially given her position on the Housekeeper's lap from which she commanded this authority.

"So My Lady, if I may ask, what is this important matter that you need Mrs Hughes' favours and my opinion on?" Mr Carson inquired in his most professional voice, mirroring Sybil's seriousness.

Mrs Hughes chuckled and shook her head lightly at Mr Carson's tone of voice. In fact she was quite surprised that Mr Carson had decided to play along instead of getting flustered about propriety.

"Dolls' dresses!" Sybil replied loudly with a very wide smile, eliciting laughter from the Housekeeper and making the Butler to raise his eyebrows and throw his hands in the air in defeat.

**To be continued… **

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**Thank you so much for your kind reviews on the previous chapter! I'm so grateful for all the support you have shown throughout this story. I'd be glad and so grateful if you could let me know of what you think of this chapter and this story in the reviews! Thanks again! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! See you soon with the next! **

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**(P.S. If you are interested you could also check out my DA fan account on Instagram under the same username : ) **


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

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"So what about doll dresses Milady?" Mrs Hughes asked, leaning her head down towards Sybil who was facing Mr Carson.

"Well… I thought… now that Christmas is coming…" Sybil stuttered wondering as to what the best way was to persuade the Housekeeper into agreeing to be part of her little plan.

"Yes?" Mrs Hughes prompted reading the thoughtful look on the young girl's face.

"Well… I thought perhaps I would get Clarisse a new dress for Christmas!" Sybil grinned widely.

"Clarisse?" Mrs Hughes asked looking towards Mr Carson who raised an eyebrow having not identified the name himself.

"Clarisse is my doll! I got her from London last season!" Sybil chuckled taking in the puzzled looks of the two adults.

Mr Carson shook his head heaving a soft sigh of slight exasperation and Mrs Hughes bit her bottom lip in amusement, to quell the giggles that threatened.

"But didn't '_Clarisse' _have a pretty little dress when you got her in London?" Mrs Hughes smiled, hand unknowingly stroking Sybil's dark hair.

"She did of course. But it's Christmas Mrs Hughes! I am getting a new dress. Edith and Mary are getting new dresses. I'm sure everyone else is getting new dresses. Wouldn't Clarisse feel left out? Poor Clarisse," Sybil turned towards Mrs Hughes, her eyes wide in the childish shades of sorrow. That look that Mrs Hughes' heart melted a little, causing a smile to blossom on her face. Unknown to the young Lady and the Housekeeper, the Butler's heart melted for both of them, the adorable, young Lady and the kind, loving Housekeeper.

"So what about Lady Mary's dolls? Or Lady Edith's? Are they getting new dresses too?" Mr Carson asked. He wasn't particularly curious, well not curious at all, about dolls dresses, but he couldn't resist when he had witnessed how emotionally invested Sybil was in her doll's welfare. So much as to think that her doll would feel sad without a new dress for Christmas when everyone else did.

"Mary is getting a dress from London. She's picked it off a picture and got Papa to promise her that he'll bring it next time he's in London. Edith is not sure, but she said she'll think about getting a dress from Ripon or Thirsk. She says the ones in the village are not pretty."

"You don't want a dress from London for Clarisse, my lady? Or from Ripon or Thirsk?" the Butler asked, his tucked in as he smiled at Sybil.

"Well… you see… I want to get Clarisse a special dress. One that I know she would love a lot. I want to make Clarisse happy," Sybil looked down at the hands and began toying with her dress, twisting the fabric around her fingers. Her eyes glistening with the beginnings of tears.

"What can I do to help Milady?" Mrs Hughes asked softly, inclining her head towards the girl's ear, her hand running gently up and down Sybil's arm in a soothing motion.

"I wondered…" Sybil turned her head towards the Housekeeper. Mrs Hughes tucked her chin and smiled as the young girl blinked away tears. "I wondered if you could possibly make a dress for Clarisse," Sybil said in a pleading voice.

"Me?" Mrs Hughes raised her eyebrows in astonishment, the amazement clear in her voice.

"Yes… I dare not ask Miss O' Brien and Anna is always so busy. Please Mrs Hughes, I don't have anyone to ask," Sybil pleaded, her little hand coming to rest on the Housekeeper's one that was holding her at the waist. Sybil's hand curled gently around the Housekeeper's index finger, her thumb brushing, almost tracing the wrinkles that were beginning to appear on the Housekeeper's work worn finger.

"Well—"

"Mrs Hughes can be very busy at this time of the year Milady and what would Her Ladyship think?" Mr Carson added, cutting short whatever reply that Mrs Hughes was about to give. Not only did he know how much of Mrs Hughes' strength and effort went into planning the entire festive season but he also was not very sure about the family's response would be towards the young Lady's plan despite how endearing it sounded in the young girl's words. But all he earned was a fallen face with tearful eyes from Lady Sybil and a frown paired with the famous signature glare from Mrs Hughes.

"I know it's asking a lot Mrs Hughes, but please! I'll be so happy and so will Clarisse be!"

"What I was _actually _going to say was that I will make a dress for Clarisse," Mrs Hughes replied looking pointedly at Mr Carson, who raised his eyebrows and huffed in return, his shoulders shrugging and Mrs Hughes recognised them to be his usual signs of sulking. "There's still quite a lot more time till Christmas and we can't have Clarisse unhappy can we? Nor a certain little Lady?"

Sybil giggled and blinked back any traces of tears. "You don't mind?" she whispered.

"I wouldn't if you promise to be a good little lassie when your governess arrives after New Year and wouldn't go sneaking off out of sight," Mrs Hughes flashed her best stern look only to receive a bitten back giggle from Sybil paired with a mischievous look in her eyes. A clear indication that the young lady was in no way prepared to make any promises in that regard.

"Well?" the Housekeeper raised an eyebrow, determined to coax an affirmative answer out of Sybil.

"Oh alright," Sybil gave in with an exasperated shake of her head.

"Good!" Mrs Hughes leaned a little backwards in satisfaction of her achievement, which was bound to be short lived.

"I crossed my fingers behind my back!" Sybil replied gleefully managing to extract a rather exhausted sigh out of the Housekeeper, along with the traces of a well suppressed smile.

Forgetting his initial displeasure at Mrs Hughes' very mild ticking off, Mr Carson watched this exchange in awe. His tried his best to suppress the wide grin that threatened to burst out across his face. It wouldn't do to appear too soft, he thought, but it was taking him a lot of effort. He had been privy to some moments of the Housekeeper with Lady Sybil, but this was the only time he was _in _the moment and the thought made him ecstatic. Mrs Hughes often teased how he would do absolutely anything for the eldest Crawley daughter but he witnessed how what Mrs Hughes had with the youngest Crawley daughter was something almost entirely different.

"Well, if you make the promise my Lady, perhaps… Mrs Hughes might consider making another dress for Clarisse," Mr Carson interrupted whatever sharp retort Mrs Hughes was ready offer to the young girl.

Nothing could have prepared him for the glare that Mrs Hughes directed at him. In an instant he knew he had threaded on thin ice and eventually drowned in icy water. An apologetic grin was the peace offering he offered her, though he couldn't guess whether she had accepted, for the Housekeeper turned towards Lady Sybil without any response to his "olive branch."

"Oh would you?" Sybil instantly clasped her hands together in excitement. "Oh Mrs Hughes would you really?"

"I'll have to think about it," Mrs Hughes raised her chin, her lips pursed.

"Surely…" Mr Carson began but a calm and cold look from the Housekeeper made him swallow his words.

"I'm sure you would," Sybil beamed but Mrs Hughes continued to maintain a straight face. Of course she would love to make another dress for Sybil's doll but she never believed in spoiling children too much. Though when it came to young Lady Sybil, she wasn't very good at maintaining her resolution.

Sybil fidgeted with delight on the Housekeeper's lap and Mrs Hughes freely allowed the smile she had hidden to bloom like a shy rose upon her face. Two faint sparks in her eyes.

"Can you make it to be purple, Mrs Hughes?" Sybil asked, her brow forming a childish frown of contemplation.

"I might be able to, if I can find some fabric."

"Oh that would be wonderful!"

"But why purple?" Mr Carson inquired.

"Purple is my favourite colour and I'm sure Clarisse would like it!" Sybil clasped her hands and wiggled at the same moment to make herself comfortable, only to lose her balance and to begin to slide down from the Housekeeper's lap. The little girl scrunched her eyes, as she awaited the pain from her striking the ground.

But Mrs Hughes caught her in time, wrapping her arms tightly around the little girl and drawing her tight against her chest.

"There, there Milady! Careful!" the Housekeeper warned the young lady with a stern tone but Mr Carson noticed the soft shadows on her deep blue eyes and the absence of the steel and strength which were present in them when she usually used that tone.

Sybil slowly opened one eyelid, then the next and giggled uncontrollably, regaining her breath and composure several seconds afterwards.

"I should be going now, or Nanny would make a big fuss," she said after a deep breath with an annoyed frown on her face.

"And she'd be right!" Mrs Hughes agreed as she carefully helped Sybil down from her lap. Sybil held on tightly to the Housekeeper's hand as she skipped, overjoyed, following Mrs Hughes.

Mr Carson watched the pair of them disappear out of the door and chuckled at the memory of the solemn face that Mrs Hughes tried hard to maintain as she walked out of the door and the look of childish delight upon Lady Sybil's face.

A few seconds later Mrs Hughes popped her head into the room, one hand on the door frame as she maintained her balance. "And Mr Carson, you will most definitely pay for the extra trouble you managed to get me into," she said in a low voice, a mock threatening tone lurching in it.

"Blue should be a good colour for the second dress Mrs Hughes," Mr Carson chuckled, a trace of mischief in his eyes.

"You have been warned Mr Carson. Do not push your luck," the Housekeeper added before she disappeared out of sight, leaving behind a Butler who tried his best to suppress the laughter that bubbled in his chest.

**To be continued…**

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**Thank you so much for all your kind reviews on the previous chapter! You all are the best and thanks a lot for your support for this story! My apologies for taking so long to update this chapter. Real life intervened quite a lot especially with university starting back again but I'm back and I'll try to update as soon as I am able to. I'd be grateful if you could leave your thoughts on this chapter with a review. Thanks again! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! See you soon with the next! **


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

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"Alright I'm off then," Mrs Patmore said as she popped her head into the Housekeeper's sitting room through the door.

"Ah yes. Good night Mrs Patmore!" Mrs Hughes replied, looking up from her button box and relaxing her eyes that she had squinted in the dim light to inspect the contents of the box.

"Blimey you do keep your sewing to ungodly hours, don't you?" Mrs Patmore couldn't help but remark, eyes widened.

"_Good night_ Mrs Patmore!" Mrs Hughes quirked an eyebrow, fighting the urge to scowl or frown.

Quite taken aback by the Housekeeper's warning look Mrs Patmore retreated, "You are the last then. That's till Mr Carson comes down from the library. Good night Mrs Hughes." Mrs Patmore flashed a slight smile and turned away from the door. Mrs Hughes sighed, almost slammed the lid of the box down in mild frustration. The lighting was certainly not doing her eyes any good but she had to get on and she simply didn't have the time during the day.

She ran her hand over the tiny bits and bobs of lace and ribbons she had found, riffling through some old fabric chests in the attics. One distinctly long piece of lace, she remembered, was originally for a christening gown, to replace a faded piece of lace from the garment which was almost a family heirloom in itself having being used as the christening gown for all three of the Crawley girls. The order was late to arrive and she herself had to go to Ripon to fetch it on time for little Sybil Crawley's christening. She was also the one to sew it on to the christening gown. Mrs Hughes remembered how Lady Grantham had held the baby when she had brought the finished gown upstairs. The little lass was all rosy cheeks and large, blue eyes with wisps of dark brown hair on her small head. Elsie didn't even try to hide her smile as she placed the garment by Lady Grantham's side.

* * *

Loud footfalls from the other end of the corridor sounded as Mr Carson came downstairs. It was an exceptionally tiring day and he let out a loud sigh as he roughly rubbed his hand on his face to keep the sleep away from his eyes for a few more minutes before he could lock up and go to bed. He had already sent his footmen to bed after all the candles in the hallways were put out and the doors and windows were checked. He presumed that everyone else must have gone upstairs to bed but a shining on to the corridor from beneath the door of the Housekeeper's sitting room proved him wrong.

Mrs Hughes was too preoccupied with her sewing to notice the sound of footsteps along the hall. The needle had almost pricked her fingers several times that evening and she had thus far been able to avoid it. Another stitch had almost gone the wrong way yet she managed to stop it, sparing her the annoying effort of correcting a wrong stitch. That didn't however stop her from muttering beneath her breath, her face decorated in a frown.

The knock on the door startled her and she jerked causing her thimble to fall to the floor with a clattering noise and the needle to prick her finger, sharply, drawing blood. She hissed in pain and looked up at the door to see a very startled, flustered and surprised Butler standing awkwardly in the doorway clutching the door in one hand and the door frame in the other.

"I'm ever so sorry—."

"Heavens Mr Carson! You scared me half to death!" the Housekeeper frowned at the Butler. Putting her sewing on the table with a rather large amount of force, she popped her wounded finger in her mouth and bent down to retrieve the thimble.

Charles on the other hand, felt extremely tense. He swallowed hard. Uncomfortable. It wasn't a despising uncomfortable. Simply an awkward type of uncomfortable that he tried hard to forget. The image of Elsie crouching around her desk (looking for her lost thimble) with her finger popped in her mouth to ease the sting of the wound and to stop the blood flow, strands of hair from her elaborate hairstyle coming undone. The auburn tresses freed from their confines glowing in a deep golden colour. The rosy colour on her cheeks. It was an image that he knew he couldn't erase from his memory even if he tried. And he wasn't sure that he would ever try to. He swallowed hard again.

"Got it!" Elsie held the thimble between the two fingers of her free hand. Her voice coming as a mumble. Popping the thimble on top of the fabric. She searched her pocket for a handkerchief. Not finding one, she stepped to the other side of her desk and leaned down to fish a white embroidered handkerchief. Releasing her pricked finger she inspected it briefly and covered it with the handkerchief. She looked up and smiled innocently at Charles who stood in the doorway feeling the blood rush in his veins and his heart racing. Finding that his throat had almost constricted and guessing the tension surrounding them without a reply from him, he cleared his throat.

"I… that is… I'm sorry Mrs Hughes. I hope nothing… is… nothing's happened I suppose," he stuttered in a desperate attempt not sound clumsy.

Elsie rolled her eyes, "Well, nothing major. Apart from a pricked finger."

Charles managed an apologetic smile.

"Done for the night Mr Carson?" Mrs Hughes asked as she stepped closer to her chair.

"Finally," he let out a bitter laugh mingled with a sigh. "I thought you might have gone up already."

"I had a few things to attend to," Mrs Hughes answered, her eyes drifting to the sewing on her table.

"That is…" Mr Carson nodded in the direction of the sewing and prompted though he could easily guess what it was, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Yes… it is the dress," Mrs Hughes laughed as she reached out and touched the purple fabric.

"I wasn't sure you would go ahead with it really," Mr Carson added meekly, yet a twinkle in his eyes.

"Honestly Mr Carson, when did you ever know me to go back on a promise," Mrs Hughes quirked an eyebrow.

"Well… true enough," Mr Carson laughed, but inwardly cursing himself for always managing to ask an absurd question.

"Well Mrs Hughes, why don't you call it a night? It must be awfully hard to work on that at this time of the night," he looked around the room and added, "with this light."

"It quite is," Mrs Hughes agreed with a slight nod of the head, "besides its past midnight." She looked back at the clock that stood on the mantelpiece.

"I'm going up then. I'm afraid if I stay up any longer I'll fall asleep on my feet. Good night Mrs Hughes!" he wished her and turned to leave.

"Good night Mr Carson!" Mrs Hughes said with a smile but took a step forward and called after him, her smile fading but slightly. "Mr Carson? Mr Carson?" He turned back with a puzzled expression all over his face.

Mrs Hughes quickly stepped to the opposite side of her desk. Opening a drawer she took out a small parcel wrapped in what looked like an oil paper or a tissue paper. She placed it on her desk and unfolded it while Mr Carson looked on, his eyes wide in curiosity.

She turned back towards him holding a beautifully finished blue doll's dress in a lovely pattern and his face broke into a wide smile. Twinkles dancing excitedly in his dark eyes. It was just the shade he had imagined.

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**TO BE CONTINUED…**

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**Thank you so much for your lovely reviews on the previous chapter and for your support towards this story! I'm ever so grateful. I was a bit late than I expected to post this chapter (rewrote it almost entirely again before posting) and I thank you for your patience. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and any thoughts about this story and this chapter in reviews are much appreciated! Thanks again! See you soon with a new chapter. **


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

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The crisp smells that signalled the approach of Christmas melded into each other in the air. The smell of pine from the giant Christmas tree that was being put up in the hall blended with the delicious smell of baking that wafted from the kitchen as Mrs Patmore tackled trays and trays of Christmas sweets. Candlewax and coffee made the undertones of this delightful aroma that drifted from the kitchen and through the corridors of the great house, like an invisible train of Christmas smells travelling through the air. Floor dusted almost every surface downstairs as the particles settled down on any surface imaginable from the Cook's apron and young Daisy's nose to the servant's hall table and to the Butler's dismay, his livery as well.

The Housekeeper however studiously managed to keep her sitting room clear of the massive invasion of flour. Famed for her attention to detail and orderliness it came as no surprise to anyone braving the cloud of flour particles in the corridor to find upon entering the Housekeeper's sitting room to be immaculately spotless. The Butler tried bravely, nevertheless failed, to defend his pantry, even going up to the extent of complaining to the Cook which earned him only choice threats in the Cook's colourful phrasing.

The smell of new paper tinged the atmosphere of the Housekeeper's sitting room as she did battle with wrapping paper and ribbons, wrapping the gifts of the entire Family. Warm biscuits and hot tea added the finishing touches to the little bubble in the Housekeeper's sitting room, devoid of both the presence and to a great extent the smell of raw floor (but ample smells of baking wafting through it as well).

This concoction of aromas succeeded in bringing with them a sense of nostalgia to many a heart and soul downstairs. To those that left behind a happy home, memories brought smiles to faces, sometimes in the most inopportune of moments, sometimes when solitude raked the very depths of minds unearthing memories almost lost in the tides of time in the measure of seconds, days, months, years and even decades. To those who never knew one, the nostalgia came from a part of their hearts where they imagined one or wished for one, and the imaginations and wishes eventually took the form of an ideal model that they yearned for, knowing in their subconscious mind that it would forever remain a dream. To those who had a home which was happy at times and at times drenched in sorrow, it took another form of nostalgia. A yearning for the vaguely non-existent mixed with a nostalgia for what once existed.

And this was the type of nostalgia that flooded the Housekeeper. While what consumed the Butler was the very first type.

Upstairs in the nursery as warm milk and Christmas delights fresh from the oven adorned the trays that Nanny brought up, three young girls rejoiced in the knowledge that Christmas was only a few days away. One young Lady in particular, very excited about wearing matching coloured outfits with her doll on Christmas day.

While Lord and Lady Grantham shared a kiss in the library, knowingly breathing in the heavy scent of pine that crept from the great hall through to the library, mingling with scent of old books. Both of them smiling into the kiss, as the snow covered landscape stretched in front of them outside the closed window.

* * *

Lady Sybil skipped her way into the hall, very eager to get on with the decorating. Standing in front of the Christmas tree, she stared at the giant tree in delight and wonder, her eyes lighting up like a new-born's. She breathed in the smell of fresh pine needles and the crisp smell of melting snow, a smile making its way on her face as the air filled her lungs. While Lady Edith and Lady Mary busied themselves with looking through the ornaments and selecting their favourites, Lady Sybil stared at the tree, still without any decorations, taking in the magnificent tree that accentuated the magnificence and gloriousness of the great hall.

"Do you remember when I got this?" Mary asked Edith, holding an intricately crafted ornament from the golden thread attached to its top. Two angels dressed in snow white and sprinkled with a sparkling dust, cream coloured wings, reaching towards an elaborately painted star. Foliage and flowers curled at their feet, painted in duller colours to highlight the main subjects.

"That was the first ornament Uncle Dickie got you wasn't it?" Edith responded, rummaging through another box without even bothering to look up.

"No it was Papa! You're not even looking at it Edith!"

"Whatever! All of yours look the same to me," Edith sneered finally looking at Mary through a fine. Mary grunted in annoyance and placed the ornament back in the box.

"Did you get anything this year Sybil?" Mary asked looking up at Sybil who was still admiring the tree.

"Mmmhmm," Sybil hummed in reply.

"What is it?" Mary inquired, rather curiously.

"A snowflake," Sybil looked at Mary, a grin invaded her face as the simple ornament she had picked up in the village while she was out with her mother sprang in to her mind.

"A snowflake?" Mary asked in disbelief.

"What's wrong with a snowflake?" Edith countered, vaguely disinterested in any ornament that Sybil may choose, but interested in contradicting Mary.

"You mean the ones they sell in village? Sybil darling the entire village has one of those I suppose," Mary laughed, lightly throwing her head back, amused that her sister would go for a common artefact that could be hanging in every shop, house or office in the village.

"Well it looked beautiful and I liked it!" Sybil replied in a firm voice, scowling at Mary, tired of how all of her choices were criticised for not being "up to the mark." How she wished she could make all the choices she wanted!

"Oh my dear! You're _going _to regret it!" Mary said shaking her head and laughing lightly.

"I won't!" Sybil raised her chin at Mary in defiance, but faltering after a moment she asked, "But what makes you think so?"

"Well when you see a pair at the post office and down at the butchers you will regret not getting something special!" Mary laughed, this time condescendingly.

"Will you please understand Mary? I like it! I got it because I like it!" Sybil stormed out at Mary. Clenching her fists tightly by her sides, she took a step towards Mary, her face in a frown.

"Suit yourself," Mary muttered under her breath, nonchalantly looking through the box of ornaments.

"Oh Mary leave Sybil alone, would you?" Edith chimed in, seizing the opportunity.

"Who asked for your opinion?" Mary looked Edith straight in the eye. Edith shook her head and continued with her exploration.

Sybil stomped to the other side of the tree, stamping her feet as loud as she could, occasionally glancing at Mary to see whether her actions were noticed. It annoyed Sybil even more when Mary took no notice of her. Sybil crossed her arms and determined herself that when it came to the decorating, she would do her best to get her snowflake the place of pride on the tree.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

To say that Cora was exhausted was an understatement. She was positively falling to her feet in exhaustion trying to keep the sisters away from each other's throats, Sybil and Mary in particular. Bringing up daughters was certainly not the fairy tale she once imagined it would be. The decorating involved a lot of arguments, with a good dose of sneaking and ample sulking. The fact that Sybil, who usually remained neutral, had joined the fighting forces only managed to make it even more tense than usual.

"That is not fair Mary!" Sybil stormed as she saw Mary reach out from the step stool to place her latest ornament at the highest place as possible. Mary placed the ornament where she had intended, looked back at Sybil and smirked.

"Mama!" came Sybil's protest.

"Mary why can't you let Sybil have that place this year. Yours is on the top each year," Cora said, one hand unconsciously making its way on to her hip. All she wanted was to sit down and it seemed as the young girls were determined not to let her rest.

"And let that odd little snowflake of hers dull the entire tree out? Never!" Mary countered. Crossing her hands in front of her and glaring at Sybil from her position on the step stool.

"I'm pulling off both of your ornaments if you keep this up!" Cora replied sternly. Mary groaned and Sybil's bottom lip trembled as she felt forming tears burn her eyes.

"Please Mama only this year! I want that place," Sybil pleaded.

"Oh please Sybil! Give it a rest! That little disaster of yours is never getting anywhere close to the top of the tree!" Mary glared.

"All right! That's it! That's all for today!" Cora thundered gesturing to the girls to move away. "Anything more would have to be after a good, strong cup of tea," she muttered under her breath and letting out a tired sigh.

"Can we carry on later?" Edith inquired with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Only if I feel that you would behave!" Cora hissed as she turned away, her footsteps falling as thuds as the heels of her shoes struck the carpet sharply. Edith followed Cora, adjusting her hair ribbon that had loosened earlier. Mary lingered for a few more moments to see if her decoration was safe and followed Edith in her usual stately fashion.

Sybil watched Mary's decoration with wide eyes, tears brimming at the corners, not without jealously finding its beginnings in her veins. Her simple snowflake dangled from her finger as she held it with a heart filled with despair.

A sharp clearing of a throat startled Sybil and she looked back to see Mr Carson standing a few feet away, eyeing the young girl with a bewildered expression.

"Milady?" he stepped closer to Sybil. "Is there anything I can do to help you?" he asked raising his impressive eyebrows kindly.

"It's my ornament. I don't know where to put it. Now that Mary's got the best place," Sybil replied, finishing with a pout.

"I'm sure you can find a good place too," he commented, eyeing the snowflake shaped ornament Lady Sybil was holding and the angels figurine which he assumed must be Lady Mary's ornament in question. He did feel sorry for Lady Sybil but he couldn't help but think that Lady Mary's ornament was the one that looked much better closer to the top.

"But Mary always gets the same place! There's nothing wrong with my ornament! I think it's better than hers!" Sybil declared firmly, holding her ornament at eye level and turning it around between her two fingers from the tread.

The Butler raised an eyebrow at that. He wouldn't dare to tell the little girl that he thought her ornament to be too plain for it to challenge Lady Mary's beautiful ornament but he didn't want Lady Sybil to feel sad neither.

"What all this?" the familiar voice of the Housekeeper sounded down the hall her footsteps sounded on the carpet. Sybil peered behind Carson's tall and broad frame to see Mrs Hughes walking towards them with some wrapped boxes, supposedly presents, carefully balanced on her arms.

Mr Carson turned around to see the Housekeeper as well and reported in his ever professional manner, "There has been a dilemma Mrs Hughes."

"A dilemma Mr Carson? My, my" Mrs Hughes raised an eyebrow as she placed the wrapped gifts on a table at the side of the hall, bending slightly to keep her balance while depositing the boxes safely on the table. Her chatelaine jingling in its position at her hip.

She placed the presents and turned back to a serious faced Butler and a pouting young Lady.

"Well?" she asked, tilting her head to one side, and a hand on her hip.

"Mary's ornament got the best place on the tree again! And I have no good place for mine!" Sybil complained, holding up her snowflake for Mrs Hughes to see.

"We can't have that, can we Mr Carson?" Mrs Hughes raised an eyebrow and smirked. She understood the atmosphere at once. She realised that Lady Sybil's ornament was looked down upon because it was not as glamorous as the ones that the other two young ladies chose. However, Mrs Hughes thought that Lady Sybil's ornament, though simple, looked the best. It was endearing, to imagine that the young Lady would go for something simple when she could go for almost anything she could wish for, a choice that Elsie as a young girl didn't have. Even though she would never voice it, Mrs Hughes thought that the snowflake suited young Lady Sybil and the way that she stood, holding said ornament was adorable. Perhaps, the others did not see that Lady Sybil chose the particular ornament for the simple reason that she liked it more than all those elaborate ones hanging in the windows of big shops in large towns or cities like Ripon or London, she thought.

"What about somewhere to the left Mrs Hughes? That side gets good lighting?" Mr Carson offered rather sheepishly, knowing fully well that Mrs Hughes would have realised the reason why Lady Sybil's ornament has been denied the place that the young girl wanted for it.

"Let me see," Mrs Hughes said as she stepped in front of the tree and took a few steps back to observe it carefully. A hum escaped as she contemplated the options. Sybil looked up at Mrs Hughes, expectantly and hopefully.

"Ah I've got just the spot! Right in the middle of the tree facing this way, below Lady Mary's ornament," Mrs Hughes declared triumphantly.

Sybil glanced at the tree, finding the position that Mrs Hughes suggested and looked back at the Housekeeper. "But why?" she asked, her eyebrows raised in confusion.

"Let me show you," Mrs Hughes made her way close to the tree and beckoned Sybil to join her while Mr Carson observed this with a puzzled expression on his face, his eyebrows knitted.

When Sybil stepped closer to the Housekeeper, Mrs Hughes bent down and whispered in Sybil's ear, "Trust me Milady it's the best place." When she leant back and looked at the young girl's face, Sybil thought for a moment and nodded.

Sybil still did not understand why the place Mrs Hughes suggested was the best but she trusted the Housekeeper implicitly.

With her hands firmly on the sides of the young girl, Mrs Hughes carefully lifted Sybil in to her arms, a soft, almost inaudible whimper escaping her as her body got used to holding the weight of the young girl cradled on her arm.

"Right there Milady," Mrs Hughes pointed the index finger of her free hand to a spot above Sybil's head. Sybil reached her hands forward, Mrs Hughes took a few steps too to allow the movement, and Sybil hung her snowflake on one of the branches. Leaning back, away from Mrs Hughes, she smiled at the Housekeeper.

"Right, there you go," Mrs Hughes stepped back and lowered the young girl down to the floor. Mr Carson quickly stepped close to them, in case Mrs Hughes needed any assistance.

Sybil ran back down to the farthest end of the great hall away from the Christmas tree, giggling and eager to witness the result.

Mr Carson looked at Mrs Hughes and whispered, "Are you alright?"

Mrs Hughes rolled her eyes at him and whispered in reply with a smile, "I can lift a young girl Mr Carson. I'm not _that_ old."

Mr Carson shook his head at her cheeky remark. And let his eyes to linger on her for a few moments more than appropriate. Of course he knew she could manage the young girl's weight. She was much stronger than a woman her age. But he couldn't be more careful. Much beautiful too, the thought slipped into his mind but he was shaken from his reverie by the excited exclamation of a certain young Lady.

"It's perfect Mrs Hughes!" Lady Sybil exclaimed, hands clasped in front of her and eyes wide open with absolute joy swimming among their blue shades as she realised that even though Mary's ornament was much closer to the top of the tree, hers was the one that best caught anyone's eye. And Mrs Hughes smiled knowingly and raised an eyebrow at Mr Carson.

"Well… you know best," he remarked.

"High time you realised that," came her swift response and he chuckled at her words.

Sybil raced towards Mrs Hughes. Tugging at the Housekeeper's sleeve, she beckoned her to bend down. Sybil planted a quick kiss on Mrs Hughes' cheek and skipped towards the library in the direction that her mother and sisters took earlier.

The Housekeeper's eyes followed the young girl and she didn't try to stop the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips and blossomed like a flower in the early morning. The Butler watched with tenderness in his heart, the sparks that danced across her eyes, excited and joyous like the little child whose path they followed, and the smile that blossomed upon her face.

**To be continued…**

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**Thank you very much for all your reviews on the previous chapter, I'm glad you are enjoying it. They make me happy beyond words and keeps me encouraged to continue this story. I'm so sorry for being late to post this chapter and thank you kindly for patiently bearing up with me. (Here's a longer chapter than usual as an apology **** ) I'll try my best to post the next chapter as soon as possible. I would be very grateful if you could let me know in the reviews your thoughts about this chapter and this story. Thanks again! See you soon!**


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

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**Christmas Eve  
**

* * *

The enchanting melody of singing echoed everywhere throughout the large house as it breathed in the joy and smiles of the people gathered in the great hall. The Christmas tree stood tall and proud as dozens of eyes wandered over the beautiful ornaments, then on to the magnificent architecture of the great hall that had seen centuries of Crawley history unfold. If only the unfeeling stone could speak, it would have related with pride, nostalgia and perhaps sorrow the millions of moments lost in time that once were cherished by the forgotten people who have walked these halls.

The glow of the fire, fresh Christmas treats, the signature smell of pine and crisp winter air along with the stunning decorations wove a perfect evening around everyone present.

Crawley family members, their servants and some of the tenant farmers stood in the great hall, carols ringing around them, the notes of the piano reverberating and the Christmas Eve breathing life around them.

The Family, their friends and their relatives stood right at the front close to the Christmas tree while tenant farmers were scattered behind them. Mr Carson stood at the end of the hall, overseeing. Mrs Patmore and several kitchen maids stood on a side, watching the glamour of the proceedings rather excitedly. Footmen were busy serving, moving about carefully yet swiftly through the crowd or were staying at attention awaiting orders, yet somehow managing to find a moment to admire the evening and sneak a glass or two of punch behind Mr Carson's back. Anna stood next to Mrs Hughes in the crowd, Sophie by Anna's side. Jane, Nancy, Gwen and the other housemaids along with Miss O'Brien stood in a group a few feet away. Mr Watson, His Lordship's valet stood quite away from where the crowd was gathered, holding a glass of punch.

The Dowager stood as grand as ever next to her daughter-in-law, Lady Grantham. Lord Grantham stood at the centre, in front of the tree, next to his wife while his sister, Lady Rosamund, and their cousins joined in from the side. A little further away from them, to their side the young girls stood with Nanny. Mary, as regal as a girl her age could be. Edith, with a genuine smile on her face, and of course trying to outshine her elder sister. Sybil, a little sleepy but as excited as she could be, her smile beaming widely.

The singing paused for a moment and Lord Grantham invited everyone to help themselves to Christmas treats and drinks, followed by a big round of applause. Mrs Hughes quickly scanned the room, making sure everything was running smoothly. As she turned around, her gaze caught Mr Carson's who nodded at her with a slight smile tugging at his lips. And she returned it, with a free flowing smile bursting upon her face.

Feeling a tremble next to her, Mrs Hughes turned back around to see Anna teary eyed and trembling.

"Are you alright my dear?" Mrs Hughes whispered, holding Anna's arm gently.

"Yes, yes… I'm perfectly alright Mrs Hughes. It's so beautiful and… well… perhaps a bit overwhelming," Anna smiled and wiped her tears with the back of hand and reached into her pocket for her handkerchief.

Mrs Hughes smiled and stroked Anna's arm a couple of a times before letting go. She understood what the young girl meant. Christmas Eve back at home was almost if not entirely different for most of them than what now unfolded before their eyes. But on the contrary there lurked something so vaguely familiar and homely about it too. Resonating with memories from one's own home. She sighed and breathed in deeply her heart filled completely in what she knew was pure happiness, which she perhaps didn't know to be twinkling in her eyes, through the windows of her soul.

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Lady Sybil raced to where her father stood, urged him to bend down and joyfully whispered something in his ear. Lord Grantham picked her up and balanced the young girl upon his arm as they engaged in a lively conversation. Lady Edith nodded in affirmation at something that the Dowager asked from her while Lady Mary listened uninterestedly to something that Master Patrick was relating to her. The young, somewhat shy boy, animatedly talking, a clear contrast to Lady Mary's expression on her face.

Mrs Hughes didn't stop the smile that blossomed on her face, as she saw Lady Sybil laughing with His Lordship, one arm around his neck. She leaned backwards, laughing and Lord Grantham carefully placed his other arm around her back to support her.

The Housekeeper shook her head and turned to walk down the hall to its far corner. The delightful image of the joyful, young girl who stole her heart, tugging at her heart and tip toeing in her mind.

"Mr Carson," she said in a low voice as she approached the Butler, who was standing absolutely straight, his hands behind his back and a proud smile on his face.

"Splendid, isn't it Mrs Hughes?" he asked, observing the celebration that bubbled and glowed in front of their eyes.

Mrs Hughes turned back slightly, attempting to follow his gaze and replied, "It is."

"If I'm honest _this _has fascinated me a lot. As much as a full blown dinner party would," Mr Carson commented and looked down at the Housekeeper, who was watching the celebration in front of them, in an attempt to read her reaction. All what he could see was that soft smile of hers that he had grown to love over the years. Her usual assortment of sarcastic expressions that she reserved in response comments of his that went down that line still not making an appearance.

"Well, that comes as a surprise to me," Mrs Hughes chuckled and looked at Mr Carson's gradually furrowing brow.

"Why is it so hard to believe?" he questioned.

"To start with, you always like the style, the show, the elegance and it's quite hard to imagine that you would see this simple celebration as equally beautiful," Mrs Hughes replied promptly, quirking her eyebrow at him.

"Of course there is elegance Mrs Hughes. The style is still there, even the show. Just not in their usual form," Mr Carson said, looking ahead.

"What I see is a group of people celebrating a happy day in relaxed and simple setting, while another group of people celebrating it in grander surroundings than usual," Mrs Hughes countered observing the Family, the servants and the tenants.

"Surely Mrs Hughes…"

Mrs Hughes smiled, "You know perfectly well Mr Carson that you and I don't agree and won't agree on that topic. Besides it's just all about the happiness isn't it? With or without the show."

Mr Carson smiled back at the Housekeeper, letting his eyes rest upon hers which were glowing in the vast, golden light of the great hall. Yes, she was right. It was all about the happiness.

The notes of the piano began to echo again from further across the hall and everyone gathered close by ready to resume singing, headed this time by young Lady Mary. The young girl, standing proudly in her bright red dress, hands held graciously in front of her and her head held high.

As the music grew louder around them, Mrs Hughes leant a bit closer to Mr Carson and whispered, "Could you spare me for a moment?"

"Yes but whatever for?" he leaned down and whispered back as best he could.

"Something I've got to do."

"At this time? What?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Yes now, and never you mind," Mrs Hughes chided and slipped in through the few people at the back, and the footmen close by towards the green baize door.

Mr Carson's gaze followed her as she stepped towards the door and disappeared behind it.

* * *

Flickering light from the candles filtered on to the corridor and danced upon the bright rich colours that adorned it and hid in the shadows formed by sharp corners and elegant shapes that decorated it. The warm glow of the light and colder air unified to bring the feeling that December was at its height and the winter was in its prime.

Mrs Hughes walked along this corridor with a small package, wrapped in wrapping paper left out after wrapping the gifts for the Family, in her hands, tied with a bright red ribbon with a bow on the top. Around her, Christmas scents, beautiful light and cheerful singing formed an orchestra that played a symphony which spoke directly to one's heart and soul in a language that one knew but couldn't understand.

She stopped at the nursery door and peered in. The pastel colours of the flowery wallpaper smiled at her and the warmth of the fire invited her. From each bed hung a decorated Christmas stocking. Lady Edith's was green, Lady Mary's red and Lady Sybil's a peach tone.

The girls were all downstairs and the room was so still and at peace. Outside the speeches and singing continued accompanied by conversations, all sounding very distant when inside the room. A little bubble away from the world.

Mrs Hughes stepped towards the bedpost from which Lady Sybil's stocking was hanging. She ran her fingers upon the soft material and on to the mistletoe decoration upon it made of coloured cloth. There were already a few small presents inside it. Most of their gifts were beneath the tree, waiting to be opened the following day. She placed the little package carefully inside the stocking, arranged it back properly and gave it a final, soft pat.

On the side of the bed, by the pillow, a beautiful doll with dark hair, dressed in a yellow coloured dress and a pretty little hat upon its head, was leaning against the headboard of the bed. An eternal smile painted upon its lips. Eyes open to the room, beneath its thick eyelashes, whether the colour of the eyes were a shade of blue or green the Housekeeper could not recognise. Perhaps a brown, she guessed. Mrs Hughes chuckled remembering for whom the present was really for.

She stepped towards the door and turned to look back at the room which was almost in a peaceful slumber, as if it was lying in the gentle divide between a dream and the reality.

From the Great Hall "Silent Night" drifted into the corridor as the Housekeeper made her way back to the Great Hall.

**To be continued…**

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**Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews on the previous chapter. And also, thank you for being patient with me, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting for this chapter. I would be grateful if you could let me know in the reviews your thoughts on this chapter and this story. Thanks again! Hope you enjoyed! See you soon with a new chapter. **


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N: I'm so sorry for taking this long to post this chapter. Real life intervened and I also had to rewrite this chapter a couple of times. I think that it would be helpful if you could read the couple of previous chapters before this one. Thank you for staying with this story and bearing up with me. **

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Chapter 40

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Sybil's eyes fluttered open and for a second she tried to place exactly where she was and what day it was. A broad smile flashed on her face when she realised it was Christmas Day. She couldn't remember how she ended up in bed, she must have fallen asleep in the middle of the celebrations but Sybil couldn't care less what she might have missed after she had fallen asleep. It was Christmas Day and Christmas Day meant presents and lots of excitement.

Sybil scrambled out of bed excitedly, getting tangled in her blanket in the process of getting out of bed as quickly as she could. Glancing around the room, she realised that she was the first to wake up and Sybil felt an overwhelming urge to relish the special moment. Climbing on to the window seat, she looked out. Her eyes widened and mouth opened in awe as she gazed at the landscape that stretched in front of her eyes. And with the unique delight of a child, she tried to take in as much as was possible of the wondrous scene.

A rather thick layer of snow covered the lawns and occasionally a patch of dry grass stood triumphantly against the crisp, white back drop having braved the snow. The eerie forms of leafless trees casted a silhouette upon the dark, winter sky which fought valiantly against the sunlight. Soft snowflakes fluttered upon the wind, dancing upon the currents as they made their way down to earth. A waltz upon the wind. The bench beneath the large Lebanese cedar trees was covered in snow at its edges and looked as if it was out of a fairy tale.

Her fingers traced patterns upon the frosted window pane and she shuddered as her fingers grew cold despite the warm fire that crackled with life and colour against the Christmassy setting of the nursery. The thought about presents lit up in her mind and Sybil got down from the window seat, barely avoiding being tripped over by stepping on her own night gown. They would all usually open their presents together as a family but Sybil couldn't resist the urge to open one. "Just one wouldn't hurt", she thought.

Her Christmas stocking looked bulkier than Mary's or Edith's and Sybil couldn't wait to see what made it so. Taking a deep breath she took the stocking carefully off her bed post and laid it upon her bed. She peered inside and took out the first, somewhat large package. Turning it around in her hands, she attempted to guess what the bright red and green patterned wrapping paper covered. She tugged the ribbon off the package and clenched her teeth in frustration when the knot tightened in her hastened attempt to open the present. After some pulling and tugging, Sybil managed to free the package from the ribbon's confines. Sybil tossed the red ribbon aside and it floated away in the air for a couple of seconds before landing a step away from her feet. She had already reached her fingers beneath the fold of the wrapping paper and was about to tear the wrapping paper off when the thought struck that the noise might wake her sisters up, or worse, Nanny.

Taking the present to the window seat, she glanced back over her shoulder to ensure that both Mary and Edith were fast asleep. Having confirmed the fact, she turned back to her present and excitedly tore the paper off without preamble. What greeted her from beneath the torn wrapping paper, caused her eyes to widen in astonishment and her face to radiate with a smile as bright and glistening as a warm summer's day. A brilliant contrast to the scene that stretched outside the window.

* * *

Mrs Hughes stood in front of the fire she had just built in her sitting room. Only Mrs Patmore was up and about at the time the Housekeeper came downstairs, the Cook having allowed the kitchen maids who were usually the earliest risers a few more hours of sleep because of Christmas. The family always had a late breakfast on Christmas Day and things were easier for the staff downstairs for a change.

She wrapped the shawl she was wearing tighter around her shoulders. She had watched with a smile and some degree of nostalgia, the layer of snow that covered the lawns of Downton. The winters back home were much colder and snowy affairs and sometimes she found herself missing the Scottish landscape at the height of winter despite the hardships that it brought with it. The scents of what made Christmas to be Christmas were still sharply prevalent in the air and Elsie took a deep breath inhaling the crisp winter air along with the signature smells of Christmas that floated along with it. She shuddered for a moment as the cold ran through the body and sighed when the warmth of the fire returned.

The housekeeper was too lost in her thoughts as she watched the bright flames of the fire duel with the firewood that she didn't hear the soft thuds of rushing, small footsteps. It was only when the door of her sitting room burst open and cries of "Mrs Hughes" in the excited voice of a certain young lady sounded that she turned around with a start.

"Mrs Hughes!" Sybil exclaimed before she rushed to the Housekeeper, the contents of her present still clutched in her right hand, and hugged the startled Housekeeper around the waist.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you so much," Sybil said, her voice quite muffled by the material of the Housekeeper's dress.

"Milady?" Mrs Hughes asked, taken completely by surprise the events of the last few seconds.

Sybil leaned back to look at Mrs Hughes' face and smiled broadly, "I never thought you would make the dress for my doll Clarisse. And two dresses! I can't believe it! Thank you so much!"

Mrs Hughes raised an eyebrow and smirked, "Well, you know I never go back on a promise."

"But still! I never ever thought you really would make _both _dresses both in my favourite colours," Sybil said finally releasing the Housekeeper from her embrace.

Mrs Hughes didn't reply to that but smiled at Sybil and ruffled her hair before asking, "So… do you like them?"

"Like them? Mrs Hughes, I love them, I love them!" Sybil answered clasping the two dresses tightly to her chest.

"Good," Mrs Hughes said with a smile. It was after a few seconds that Mrs Hughes realised that Sybil was dressed just in her night gown. "Milady, did you come downstairs all by yourself?"

"Yes," Sybil replied sheepishly knowing where the conversation was headed.

"What have I told you about wandering off alone?" Mrs Hughes asked sternly. "And in this cold? You must be freezing." Mrs Hughes said as she bent down a little and ran her hands up and down Sybil's arms and then taking Sybil's little hands in her own, one by one, to warm them.

"Well, I was so happy when I saw the dresses and I couldn't wait to see you," Sybil reasoned but Mrs Hughes gently lifted Sybil carried her towards, and placed her on the settee, and proceeded to wrap her own woollen shawl around the young girl.

Sybil instinctively took her bare feet off the floor and tucked them beneath her but continued to protest, "I'm not cold Mrs Hughes." However much Sybil tried to deny it she felt the cold make its way into her body.

"Your chattering teeth and almost blue fingers says otherwise," Mrs Hughes countered raising an eyebrow and Sybil smiled sheepishly signalling her acceptance of defeat. "Nanny would be furious."

"You're not going to tell her, are you?" Sybil asked Mrs Hughes, her brow wrinkled in worry and her lips pouted.

Mrs Hughes crossed her hands in front of her and remained quiet, determined to not give in easily.

"You aren't, are you Mrs Hughes? Please?" Sybil pleaded and reached her hand from beneath the woollen shawl that covered her to touch Mrs Hughes' dress. Her tiny fingers grazing the material of the Housekeeper's dress.

Mrs Hughes sighed. There was no denying that the sweet, little girl had stolen a permanent place deep in her heart and was burrowing in it day by day. However much she wanted to be strict or stern with the mischievous young girl, she found it immensely difficult. Young Lady Sybil managed to bring out a side of her that was dormant for so long and something about the vibrant, enthusiastic and cheerful young girl stirred her heart. Her pure exuberance, Mrs Hughes found to be fascinating. A part of the little girl, a tiny part of her reminded Mrs Hughes of the girl she was several decades ago, long before she became the stoic "Mrs Hughes." Even before she was the serious eyed, severely duty conscious and efficient "Elsie the Head Housemaid."

"All right," Mrs Hughes shook her head and gave in. "But only because it is Christmas Day today, mind you and also only if you behave well and not get up to anything you're not supposed to do," she added noting the cheeky grin that was forming on Lady Sybil's face.

"I knew you wouldn't tell Nanny," Sybil grinned like the cat that got the cream.

"Oh, don't be so sure about the next time," Mrs Hughes warned crossing her hands in front of her raising an eyebrow at the young girl who then burst into a fit of giggles.

"What pray tell is so funny?" Mrs Hughes asked, uncrossing her arms, one hand coming to rest on her hip.

"Nothing… nothing," Sybil replied between her giggles. Her whole body tilting to a side as she struggled to regain a straight face and stop giggling.

"Doesn't sound like nothing!" Mrs Hughes persisted.

"No… it's just," Sybil sat up straight and took a deep breath of air and managed to pause her giggles for a moment. "You looked a bit funny doing that."

"It's meant to be frightening," Mrs Hughes deadpanned.

"Well… it looked a bit funny, if I'm honest," Sybil replied and burst into giggles again.

Mrs Hughes sighed, "So it seems I'll have to talk to Nanny after all."

The mention of Nanny got Sybil's attention and her giggles stopped immediately, "What? Why? You promised!"

"I promised, yes, but only on the condition that you behaved and giggling when I was trying to be serious is _not _behaving."

"But you did look funny then," Sybil argued and barely managed to suppress a giggle, as she reminisced the look on Mrs Hughes' face and her pose from before, and ended her sentence with a mischievous smile.

Mrs Hughes sighed and smiled. It has been long since that adorable smile had captured her heart well and truly.

"Well, I know it's quite useless asking but… will you promise you'll behave for Nanny, Milady and for the new governess who'll come after the New Year?"

Sybil knitted her eyebrows for a seconds and contemplated the Housekeeper's request, "I'm not so sure I will for them but… I will for you Mrs Hughes."

Mrs Hughes found herself almost at a loss for words having been touched by Sybil's words, but was still determined to get Lady Sybil to agree. She reached her hand forward and ruffled the young girl's dark head of hair, "Well, will you be at your best behaviour with them for me?"

Sybil tilted her head to a side and looked at a spot away from Mrs Hughes as she considered the unexpected request. Looking up at the Housekeeper she answered, "I think I'll try."

"Good," Mrs Hughes nodded, stroking Sybil's head.

"Mrs Hughes…" Sybil began and paused. She patted the place next to her on the settee and nodded towards it.

With a curious expression on her face, Mrs Hughes sat down next to Lady Sybil.

Sybil instantly threw her arms around the Housekeeper's neck and hugged her tight. Her little head resting on Mrs Hughes' shoulder, the woollen shawl slipping from her shoulders. Mrs Hughes rested her hands on the young girl's back through the shawl, still quite confused by Lady Sybil's sudden actions.

Lady Sybil hugged the Housekeeper even tighter and leant back to place a kiss on her cheek as she whispered in Mrs Hughes' ear, "And _this _is my Christmas present to you Mrs Hughes! Merry Christmas."

Tears pooled in the deep blue depths of the Housekeeper's eyes as she leant back by a fraction and placed a kiss on Lady Sybil's head before saying, "Merry Christmas to you too M'lady!"

**To be continued…**

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**Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews on the previous chapters! I'm so glad you liked them. I'm sorry I took quite long to publish this chapter, I'll try to post the next one as soon as I am able to. Thank you for staying with this story. I would be grateful if you could let me know in the reviews your thoughts about this chapter and the story. Hope you enjoyed! See you soon with another chapter! Thanks again!**


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